Cities Of Poison
by GrapeLeaf
Summary: Ten or so years after Meteor, everyone still seems to be having issues. This fic is insanely long, but mostly coherent. Most of it was written well before any news of AC was released, so there are no references to FF7AC.
1. Default Chapter

i Aloha kakou,

Author, here, in case you haven't guessed. A good story should stand on its own, without notes explaining this or that, but it's up to you to decide whether or not this qualifies. I hope that having a fic that's a few hundred pages long entitles me to say a few things about it first. Either way, I'm going to say them.

I started this in the summer of 2000, which makes this story four years in the making. I actually had most of it posted back in 2001, before deciding that I wanted to work really hard on Seer and Raptor Crest, and that I might not ever finish this one--and then I took it down off the internet. I put it aside and kind of let it rot on my hard drive. The line "Isn't it enough that I'm afraid her her?" was the last one I wrote at the time.

Meanwhile, I got older, did and saw and learned a lot of things, and wrote some other stories. Somewhere along the line, I re-played FFVII too, I think.

I have a tendency to hate anything I've written that's over two years old, but when I came back to this one in January '04, I found that I still liked a lot of it. More surprising, I found that I still wanted to work on it. And then, after seeing the subbed trailer for Advent Children, I got it in my head that I had to finish it before that movie was released. At the time of this writing, I don't know if I will have accomplished that or not, yet.

I also want to point out that I'm aware this story has elements in common with GlassShard's brilliant and superb Too Much In The Sun, particularly the, uhh, premise: Many years after the events in the game, Jenova has returned, bad stuff happens to Cloud, Sephiroth has returned (without Jenova cells) and has to help fight Cloud's battle. ;; Yes, that's pretty freaking similar. And while I'm proud, in a weird way, to have thought of the same thing GlassShard did, all I ask is that you keep in mind the fact that I began this story, premise and all (in fact had halfway finished it,) before having read TMITS. I hope that the rest of it--characterizations, style, voice, subplots, themes--will be original enough. And if you haven't read GlassShard, read her. I can't say enough about her story. It's the best FFVII story I've read anywhere.

The decision to keep schmoopy romance and "OMFG OTP!" stuff out of here wasn't a conscious one, at first. I didn't have the motivation to write that kind of thing, and I think the idea of an arbitrary pairing for the sake of romance is stupid. In this story the characters are grown up, have seen worlds of crap, and have things to take care of that are much more important than who's boffing whom. When I picked up this story again recently, I decided to keep writing characters for whom relationships were less about puppy-love, and more about loyalty and decisions. Some people may find that bleak, but having known both, I no longer do.

If you're looking for tight, restrained prose, I'm afraid this is not the story for you. It's sprawling, and I know that it's downright purple in some places, not to mention some shameless Cloud Strife stroking, trauma and angst. (Hey! Cloud trauma is canonical! ;D ) I did try to keep everyone in character though, and expand on their established characterizations. I hope I didn't go overboard with at least those things.

Oh yeah, and this qualifies as a Longass Fic. If you'd like to read it, get comfortable.

That said, here's my on-again/off-again love affair with FFVII, its twisted story, and its beautiful and inspiring characters.

/i

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b The Turks -- Chapter One: Return to NeoMidgar /b

"Bitter, bitter, bitter," he muttered, laughing, he thought, quite bitterly as he walked into the gold pyramid of light from the streetlamp. He didn't glance back over his shoulder at the thug he could hear running the other way, who had been naive enough to try to tangle with him, supposedly to take his gil, but then again, you never knew what people really wanted.

The dumbass who had turned him around by the shoulder and tried to clock him one hadn't expected him to duck backwards so quickly, grab his wrist so quickly, and break it so quickly, all in quick succession.

"What're you doing?" he had asked the kid, watching his face twist in pain and surprise.

"I wasn't doing nothing, I swear!" the kid said, falling to his knees. It was a rather large young man, not as tall as he was, but twice as wide and muscular.

"No? You were just gonna ask me what time it was after you hit me? Then what's this thing?" He reached inside the thug's jacket and took the gun that he could so plainly see. He let go of his wrist as he looked the gun over. "This is a pretty serious gun. You ever look closely at it?" He pointed it in the kid's face. The kid fell back on his heels and tried to scurry away backwards. "You weren't going to try to use this on me, were you?" he asked.

"No!"

"Tch! And to hit a guy with glasses." It was about one in the morning, but he still had his sunglasses on. He kept them on a lot these days, unless the occasion called for something special, as it did now. He pushed them back into his hair and smiled as the kid's eyes widened in surprise. Then came the question he always got when he did this, although these days, he was never quite sure how to answer it.

"Who are you?" the kid asked.

Now came the hard part, choosing an answer to suit the moment. Many times he would just answer "nobody," and mean it. But this kid had pushed his buttons.

"Reno of the goddamned Turks," he answered very slowly and precisely.

The kid frowned, forgetting his pain for a moment. "There's no more Turks," he spat, getting to his feet. "Turks are gone. You're just another Mako injected freak." And he turned and ran as fast as his feet would carry him.

Reno didn't chase him; there was no reason to. No reason to fight with him about it. He was right.

He'd shoved the gun into his jacket pocket and continued walking to his apartment in Sector Seven.

A few hours later, Reno sat staring lovingly at his Electro-Mag rod. It was lonely. It was bored. He turned it on, (it squealed an unusual, feedback-like sound when he did--Reno vaguely wondered why it did that lately; something about the frigged up polarities here, no doubt,) and stared at it solemnly as it hummed and crackled to life. No ordinary tazer, joltwand or stunner, but a high voltage, Mako and materia enhanced instrument, made just for him. It was not meant to simply disable someone, though it could. It was made to be lethal.

Absently, he stuck the lethal end of it right below his ribs, and cranked it to about three quarters of its highest output.

Reno fell to the floor, holding onto the nightstick, and yeah, oh yeah, that hurt like hell. But, he reminded himself, probably so did having a gazillion ton metal and concrete plate dropped on top of you.

Finally, he couldn't keep his grip on the Electro-Mag rod any longer. His hand dropped to his side, and the EMr landed beside it. It continued to hum and crackle on the floor.

Reno got up shakily, turned it off, and slipped it back into the small compartment hidden inside the table drawer. He latched it and put his sunglasses on top of it. Mako injected freak. Yup, that was the deal all right.

He did wonder sometimes what the other Mako injected freaks were doing though. Once in a while.

Mako was such a thing of the past, Reno mused, still catching his breath, and Mako "enhanced" people so deeply undercover these days that it was almost a joke. Ten years after Meteor, normal people had taken to wearing sunglasses at night just to freak people out and make them wonder. Even novelty stores sold "Mako Eyes;" soft inserts of unnatural green or green-blue, that rested over the eyes like contact lenses. He'd seen them once while on the occasions when he ventured into Wall Market. They didn't glow, though. That was the one difference, they didn't glow. They weren't very convincing.

Deciding once again not to think about it, or what had just occurred between the EMr and himself, he took a hot shower, made a cup of black coffee, and promptly fell asleep on his tattered sofa, pretending he had a television to watch.

click...click...click...

Reno frowned and turned over on the couch. "Damnit, now what?" he said out loud. His own irritated voice cheered him up somewhat. He figured it was probably the stray cat that sometimes came scratching at his window. Sometimes he would feed it, sometimes he would throw a newspaper at it. He had to do these things, just to keep the world on its toes. Tonight would be a newspaper night since the little bastard had woken him up.

click...click...click...

"Fine," Reno muttered, and got up to go the kitchen to see if he had any leftovers to feed the cat.

As he got up, though, he saw the doorknob to the front door of his apartment turn slightly. Ah, so this was no cat at his window, then. He smiled, hoping that someone was trying to break in. He was just in the mood, and needed a little something on which to vent his frustrations. Bottling them up was supposed to be unhealthy, anyway.

He turned off all the lights and made his way to the door, making out the different shapes by the slight glow cast by his own eyes. He squinted, hoping to dull them, and looked through the peephole. At first he didn't see anything. Then he saw what made him stumble backwards, his hand over his mouth to stifle a scream.

A flash of green, a swirl of silver, and a black cloak--a human shape, pulling back from the door, presumably to lean into it and break it down.

"Shit!" Reno whispered.

He ran toward the window, readying himself to tear it open and jump out, when the door crashed open. He had no time to get out the window. His only recourse was the open bedroom door to the side, and he dove through it in the dark, rolling over to the side of the bed.

i Quiet! /i he told himself uselessly. i Stop breathing like that! /i

He could hear himself breathing in rapid, shuddering breaths and

he tried to control himself. As quietly as he could, he reached into the drawer in the table beside him and tried to undo the clasp on the secret compartment. But his hand, shaking as if charged by electricity, knocked his sunglasses aside. As they clattered softly against the drawer, he heard a swift movement in his living room. His fingers weren't able to undo the compartment and he fumbled with it. Finally the clasp slipped open, and he reached in, wanting to rush, but moving painfully slowly, to grab the nightstick.

The stupid, useless, pitiful Electro-Mag rod that would probably make the man in his living room laugh. No, no, Reno reminded himself, he wouldn't laugh. He would smirk, before ripping the EMr out of his hand and using his own weapon, that insanely long sword, to open Reno from crotch to neck, letting his guts spill on the floor. It would take him hours to die, maybe even days. The Mako in his system would see to that. He'd seen it done.

Sephiroth had done things like that.

Before Sephiroth had gone insane, he'd been an efficient killer, but his madness had turned him into a sadist as well.

i Stop BREATHING LIKE THAT! /i his mind screamed at him once more, as he felt, rather than heard, footsteps heading his way. He could barely hear anything over the sound of his own breathing, which sounded so loud to him, he felt it must be echoing all around the apartment.

Reno closed his eyes. Not so that he couldn't see, but so that Sephiroth wouldn't be able to see them glowing ever so slightly. Not that it mattered, he reminded himself, since Sephiroth had brighter Mako eyes which would probably light on him anyway.

He fingered the button on the nightstick, longing to turn it on, but he refrained. He knew that it wouldn't do anything to protect him, and also, the noise it made as it charged would surely alert Sephiroth to his whereabouts. Damned thing was noisy lately.

i And what the hell is Sephiroth doing alive anyway? /i Reno's mind thundered at him. i How did the bastard come back? /i

He felt his hair sticking to the sweat on his back and was keenly aware of every nerve in his body. He needed to open his eyes. He had to; he was helpless with them shut.

Whatever he saw, he thought, had to be better than not knowing.

He realized just how wrong that assessment had been when he did open his eyes, and saw green Mako eyes in his doorway, giving off a vague hazy light and casting shadows in the room. Reno's eyesight was so sharp that he could see the pupils dilate and the eyes narrow as they turned on him.

He knew he was trapped, but it was no use huddling in the corner, and the adrenaline in his body was screaming for him to get up and run. He jumped up and bolted for the door, hoping to startle the larger man and shove him to the side, and knowing the hope was in vain.

Sephiroth grabbed his arm and yanked him back as he tried to push his way past him. As he felt himself being jerked closer to Sephiroth, he realized he still had his nightstick, and instinctively flicked it on. As he did so, Sephiroth lunged at him, and Reno's back hit the floor with enough force to take his breath away.

No sooner had he hit the floor than Sephiroth had him pinned, one knee on Reno's chest, one hand wrenching the nightstick out of his hand (just as he had envisioned,) the other hand clamped hard over his mouth.

Reno struggled to breathe. Yes, it was certainly Sephiroth, of course, coming to kill him for whatever reason. But, he told himself as he tried to come to grips, he had faced death before. He had fought Cloud Strife, the man who had been able to kill Sephiroth in the first place. Reno was always prepared to die. He reminded himself that this would probably be a much more terrifying and painful death than he had imagined, but hey, didn't they all end the same way? He was a Turk--even if ShinRa had the wrong ideas and had collapsed--and he would always be a Turk. And if he did have to die, he resolved not to go out whimpering like a beaten puppy. Reno would sooner swallow his own tongue than whimper for mercy; that kind of death was for other people. Not that it would matter once he was in the Lifestream.

He let himself go limp and looked directly into the green eyes staring down at him in the near dark. In their cool glow, he could just barely make out his features. The same sharp, some would say elegant features that haunted the worst nightmares of anyone who had come across him in his later days. Not that anyone he knew would breathe a positive word about the monster who had slaughtered his way to near-god status.

"Don't move," Sephiroth hissed. "And don't scream. Not a sound."

Reno held still and waited. He didn't want to give Sephiroth the satisfaction of watching him do as he was told, but it also wasn't in him to outright defy Sephiroth. He wished that it was.

Slowly, warily, Sephiroth removed his hand from Reno's mouth. Reno didn't scream or call for help. It was plain that he was going to die, and obviously Sephiroth wanted to toy with him a little longer first. Screaming would do him no good; even if he had lived in the kind of place where someone might come to help him, they would only end up getting killed anyway. As it was, though, he knew that no one would come, and screaming would only give Sephiroth more satisfaction.

"One of Tseng's," Sephiroth said.

Reno nodded.

"You're ShinRa."

"There is no more..." he began to whisper, but then Sephiroth's hand was over his mouth once more.

"I told you, not a sound," Sephiroth said.

Reno nodded, then internally cursed the fear that had made him take that order without question.

"You can ask questions later," Sephiroth went on. "Right now I'm asking them."

Later? There was going to be a later? Just how long did Sephiroth intend to keep him alive? The longer he waited, the longer Reno figured he had to talk his way out of this. Not that it was likely, but anything was worth a try, and he reminded himself of this philosophy even as he lay under the gaze of the strongest killer the Planet had ever met.

"There's something you can do for me, Reno of ShinRa," Sephiroth went on. Reno was suddenly under the impression that Sephiroth was talking as much to himself as he was to him. "You're going to help me find someone."

Reno didn't move. So Sephiroth was going to keep him alive. Utterly confused, he waited for him to go on. He could hear him breathing evenly, while he himself was still struggling to take a breath. He imagined that the large hand over his face had something to do with that.

"Strife," Sephiroth whispered, again, almost to himself. "I need to find him."

Cloud Strife. Sephiroth wanted him to find Cloud? Why, Reno wondered, on this godforsaken Planet, did Sephiroth need his help in finding Cloud Strife? Or in doing anything, for that matter? But he didn't have time to wonder about it. Right now it came down to life or death. If he did this for Sephiroth, he might live, or at least buy himself some time.

Cloud Strife had helped to bring ShinRa to its knees. He'd let Tseng die. He had broken everything that Reno had, at one time in his life, lived for.

Sell Strife to Sephiroth, and possibly live. A clear cut deal.

He felt Sephiroth's hand ease off of him and he took a deep, much needed breath. "Go to hell," he breathed. And he waited.

Sephiroth's eyes bore into his, coldly, for a long moment. Reno could read what looked almost like irony in them. "Hell?" the eyes seemed to say, "I could draw you a map."

"I can't give you a choice," Sephiroth finally said. "I'm..." The eyes flicked away from his for the first time. "I'm sorry."

Reno froze. A moment later, he relaxed as blissful relief washed over him. He closed his eyes, fully expecting that when he opened them next, he would be lying on his sofa, probably drenched in a cold sweat, listening to a stray cat scratching at his window. He would feel tired and shaky, but at least the dream would be over.

Of course it was a dream. How ludicrous was it that Sephiroth would break into his shabby apartment in the badly rebuilt Sector Seven, stalk him through his house, nearly suffocate him, and then apologize?

The pressure on his chest eased up. Reno tried to wake himself up. Nothing happened. He opened his eyes. No green Mako eyes. Nothing.

He seemed to have fallen from his sofa onto the floor. He sighed, still frightened, but wanting to laugh at himself as he sat up. Stupid, stupid nightmare, the likes of which he'd had in the past. Not the same plot of course, and never such a realistic one as this had been, but... There would always be nightmares, he reminded himself. Part and parcel. Par for the course.

Reno looked around his darkened room. There, in the corner by his front door, Sephiroth's green Mako eyes seemed almost disembodied.

Reno felt his heart sink.

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i No, Reno is not a dramatic self-mutilator. There is a reason for this stuff. Unfortunately, it doesn't come till like a billion chapters down the road.

I will post more down the road, but slowly.

Mahalo nui loa to anyone who sat through this first chapter. /i


	2. chapter two

Reeve sat back in the cool leather chair in the air conditioned office. He frowned, considering the offer that was being put to him.

"The Turks?" he said.

The other man nodded. "I umm..." He hesitated as he leafed through a file on his desk. "I have some information on the ones that were alive, at the end of...of the situation."

Reeve was more than slightly annoyed at the other's polite business-like coolness, and tried to match it with his own. "The Turks have disbanded," he said. "I'm afraid I wouldn't even know where to find any of them."

The small, ferret-like businessman looked up at him, pretending to try to hide an amused smile. "Hmm," he said again, peevishly, "yes. You're telling me you would not be able to locate them," he said, clearly stating with his tone that there was no way in hell he believed him. "Anyway," he went on, "I have some information on them, just vague background information. If you're interested in taking this job I'll need a little more."

Reeve hesitated, matching the other man's go-to-hell smile with his own. It wasn't a challenge for him to do that; he was practiced at being the chilly business person, even though he never quite believed it reflected what was inside of him.

"It's an opportunity for all of you, Reeve," the other man said. "With the ShinRa gone... Let me just say that it would pay for all of you to be involved in this. Don't tell me you don't need the gil for Midgar."

Reeve remained silent.

"I know that the Turks are a force all their own, and not to be taken lightly. I know they're dangerous. But it is our opinion that the world could be a much safer place if the Turks were to regroup under different circumstances."

Reeve was annoyed at the way Bradburn had used the term "our opinion," and wondered if he meant the entire group he represented, or the royal "We." He suppressed a small smile.

"Who's 'we', if you don't mind my asking you, Bradburn?" he asked.

"The party I represent and...and, well, myself, in fact. You know as well as I do that law enforcement is in severe decline."

"Law enforcement?" Reeve asked, both astonished and exasperated. "Mr. Bradburn, you misunderstand the Turks."

"Perhaps I do. That's part of why I'm asking you to tell me more. You don't have to tell me anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, or anything that you feel might betray their trust."

"You're damned right I don't," Reeve said, making sure that he sounded more confident and amused than as annoyed as he was.

But Bradburn was right about one thing. It would pay, in more ways than one, for the Turks to regroup, though he hated to admit that this man could be right about anything. And also, he had to admit, he had liked the Turks. And it couldn't hurt anything to listen.

Reeve nodded. "Go on," he said. "Ask me your questions. And then I'll have some to ask you."

A sly smile creased Bradburn's thin lips. "Good," he said. "To get started, I'll need a little more background information. We want to know we're not hiring savages."

Reeve thought of Reno and had to stifle a chuckle. "You're not hiring anyone yet, that I know of."

"I understand that, Reeve. Forgive me if I seem a little eager." Bradburn fastidiously leafed through his file once more. "Elena," he said, and looked at Reeve.

Reeve pressed his fingertips together in a way that he hoped would annoy the other man. It wouldn't hurt to tell this man anything that was already in the files he had, and he wondered what this little charade was about. He shrugged. After all, the decision wouldn't be his; all he had to do was find the Turks and bring them a message. He realized that he wouldn't mind finding the Turks. He wouldn't mind it at all. He often wondered what had become of them.

"She was their latest acquisition," Reeve said. "She had what it took to be a Turk, but she would have benefited from more time with them. She needed some strengthening."

Bradburn smiled and nodded, in such a way that it seemed he was saying, "Don't all women?" Reeve had a flash image of little Bradburn being thrown into a volcano by Amazon women, and wondered where it had come from. Maybe a movie he'd seen.

"But she was a stabilizing force, and very powerful," Reeve went on. "Once she got the idea of what it meant to be a Turk, she was incredibly valuable and clearheaded. Passionate," he said, "but reasonable. It was unfortunate that we never got the chance to see her develop into what she could be."

Bradburn smiled again. "You may very well get that chance," he said, trying to sound warm. "And what about Rude?" he went on.

"Rude was...dispassionate, I would say. A calculating person. Very little in the way of an interesting past, that we're aware of. He was just good at what he did. He was invaluable too, as a stabilizing factor for..." Reeve paused, considering what he was about to say. "Mr. Bradburn," he went on, leaning forward, "working with the Turks is like holding a lit stick of dynamite and waiting for someone to pinch the fuse. You need to understand this before we go on. They're highly skilled and they're dedicated, but they're unpredictable. They're not mindless slaves. They can change their minds and their loyalties unexpectedly."

Bradburn only nodded as if he wasn't really concerned.

Reeve shrugged. Not his problem anymore. He had warned them. "Rude was a stabilizing factor," he went on. "As close to a regular guy as you could hope to get in this line of work. Very quiet. He worked well with Reno."

Bradburn looked up. "Reno," he said simply, waiting for Reeve to go on.

Reeve smiled ever so slightly. "Slightly warped," he said, looking into Bradburn's eyes to let him know he wasn't joking. "Well, in truth, pathologically so. But effective. He started out in SOLDIER and turned out to be possibly the deadliest of all the Turks. He had a lot of anger and ShinRa was willing to exploit that. The training to become a Turk is brutal. Part of it is learning to survive and fight without weapons or materia. Reno was..." He sat back in the chair, holding Bradburn's eyes with his own. He wanted this man to know what his people were getting into. "Reno was not afraid to show his teeth. And to use them," Reeve said mildly, with a smile that told Bradburn he meant what he'd said literally. "He's not afraid to get his hands dirty. None of them are.

"And nothing," Reeve went on, "scares the Turks."

_Well_, he added mentally, _almost nothing_.

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Two days after the Turks had unknowingly been sought out by a group simply calling themselves "Hunters," Elena of the Turks was nimbly stepping out onto the narrow tree branch. "I see her!" she called down to Rude. "I think I can grab her!"

"Be careful up there," Rude said, squinting through his sunglasses even in the dusky light.

"I'm fine...just one more...Wooo!" Elena grabbed a nearby branch and steadied herself as she tottered. Fine work for a Turk to be doing, she thought.

"You got her?" Rude called up.

Elena reached out toward the roof of the Tavern and Inn and grabbed the cat by the scruff of the neck. The cat struggled and scratched her. Elena ignored it. "Got her!" she called, as she wondered how she was going to get down. She held the cat away from her body and eased herself down the branches, using her free hand for support. When she was low enough, she handed the creature to Rude, who handed it to the Tavern owner.

"Thank you so much!" the woman squealed as she cuddled the still struggling animal. "Please come in, drinks are on me!"

"Don't have to tell me twice," Rude said, as he held out his hand to Elena, helping her off the last branch.

Inside the tavern, Rude and Elena sat in the corner, quietly nursing their drinks.

"So," said Rude, which surprised Elena, since he was never one to initiate conversation.

"Yeah," she said, with a slight smile. "Weird, huh?"

"Yeah," Rude agreed.

There was another silence, but it was not awkward. Rather, it was accepted and comfortable.

"It's strange," Elena mused once more.

Rude nodded.

"But I'm glad we met up," she said.

As it was, she was exceedingly glad that she had met up with Rude at Costa Del Sol. She had been alone for a long time, hiding her identity, trying to find work that didn't feel degrading to her. But after having been a Turk, it was difficult to find that. She was highly trained at so many different things that it was more than she could stand to do office work or hire herself out as a detective. No one had understood that. And she hadn't made a single friend or comrade the whole time. Rude might have been quiet, but he understood her. He understood her position in life.

"What have you been doing, Rude?" she asked softly, hoping the question wasn't as painful for him as it was for her.

"This and that," he said. "Locating people, things... Taking care of other people's problems. Gotta survive, right? That's what Turks do."

"Yeah," Elena said in a low voice. Turks survived. Most of them, anyway. "So," she said, too quickly and brightly, "heard anything about Reno?"

"Nope."

"Well..." Another silence. "Well, Reno will have thought of something to do with himself. He could never keep still for too long."

Rude gave her a rare smile. Reno had been his best friend and ally. "Yeah," he said, and raised his glass. "To the Turks. To Reno!"

Elena clinked her glass against his. "To the Turks! To..." She stopped as she glanced at the door to the Tavern, which had been thrown open with a flourish. "RENO!"

Rude nodded and began to take a long drink from his glass.

"No, Rude!" Elena said, pulling the glass away from his face and making him sputter.

"Damn, Elena! What..."

Elena was pointing frantically to the door. Rude slowly turned to look where she was pointing.

There was no missing the tall, lanky frame, topped with dark copper hair, standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the dying sunlight. Rude stood up quickly, nearly knocking the table over.

Elena got up too, and followed Rude towards the door. She was shocked to see Reno, but she was more shocked by his appearance when they approached him. Physically he looked just as he always had, maybe a little thinner, but there was something drastically different about him. He looked overwhelmingly relieved to see them, especially Rude, and he smiled tremulously. Elena noticed both of those things immediately. Reno never looked overwhelmingly anything, and he never did anything tremulously.

If Rude noticed at all, he didn't show it. He merely peered over the top of his sunglasses with a small smile. "Reno of the Turks," he stated.

Reno's smile broadened. "I saw you guys come in," he said quietly.

Elena frowned. Reno never said anything quietly.

There was another small silence before Rude said, "Welcome back, man," and hugged Reno, clapping him on the back.

"Good to see you guys," Reno said, turning next to Elena.

As she put her arms around him, Elena was startled to find that he also felt different. He'd always been thin, but there was something about him... She pushed the word "frail" out of her mind and stepped back to look him over.

"What?" Reno asked, still smiling in that tremulous way that put Elena on edge.

"You seem different," she said, trying to keep her tone light. "Just making sure you're you."

"Aw, Reno's just Reno, that's all," Rude said, and took hold of the other man's chin. "See?" he said, roughly turning his face so that Elena could see the scars that ran across both sides of his face.

Elena smiled at him. "Yeah."

"Another round of drinks!" Rude said.

Reno cringed. "Shh. Let's go sit down."

"I'll join you in a sec," Elena said. "I have to go to the ladies'."

"Take a nice long piss for me," Rude said, as he and Reno went back to the table in the corner where he and Elena had been sitting.

Elena went towards the hall where the restrooms were located, then sidestepped behind a booth in the tavern where she could watch Reno and Rude. She had a sense of something wrong, and she'd learned over the years to trust this small voice of intuition. She also knew that Reno would be more likely to spill whatever truth he was hiding to Rude, and Rude alone. This, she decided, might hurt her feelings later, but for now she was just interested in watching him and listening. The Mako had enhanced her hearing, and all the Turks had been trained to single out specific voices in a crowd of voices, or, if that wasn't possible, to read lips. Elena now did a little bit of both.

Reno sat in the darkest corner and slunk down in the chair, his long legs crossed under the table. He glanced around the room nervously, though he tried to look relaxed. That was also worrying, because Reno excelled at what he called "acting casual" during crises.

"God, it's been forever," Reno said to Rude. "I thought about you guys a lot."

"Well?" Rude said sternly.

_So_, Elena thought, _Rude did see it, too_. _He was hiding it from me_. This might also make her feel lonely, but later. Not while she was working.

Reno looked at him, startled. "Well what?"

"Elena's right, you look wasted. What happened?" he asked. He took a drink as he waited for the reply.

Reno looked away and shrugged carelessly. "Dunno. I guess just bored, lack of good work..."

Rude put his glass down on the table hard enough to make Reno jump. "Bullshit," he said. "You jumped outta your skin just now. Since when do you do that?"

"I don't wanna say it in front of Elena. I don't want to get her involved," he said softly.

Elena couldn't hold back anymore; she came from behind the booth and strode back to the table purposefully. "Get me involved in what, you overbearing, chauvinistic bastard?" Elena said.

Reno didn't seem to care that she'd heard him. "Sorry, Elena. I didn't want to get either of you involved, but...I can't do it alone."

Elena grabbed a handful of Reno's hair and yanked hard enough so that he was looking up at her as she stood behind him. "You either do it alone, or you do it as a Turk, Reno, you son of a bitch. All or nothing." She hated that it must have looked to him as if she had something to prove. But, damnit, she did.

Reno smiled, still looking up at her as she held his hair. "I'm not the only one who's changed, huh?" he whispered.

"No," Elena said.

Rude had stopped drinking in mid-gulp and stared at Elena, looking mildly surprised.

"We didn't all end up in Costa Del Sol for goddamn nothing," Elena said.

"Nope," Reno conceded. "We didn't. I knew Rude liked it here; he always talked about coming here. I knew that this was where I'd find him."

Elena slowly let go of Reno's hair, trying to cover up the hurt she felt at his words. He always had a way of making her feel left out, as if she was never really a Turk just because she was the last recruit. He'd always thought of her as a rookie. He had just told her as much once again. He hadn't been looking for her at all. He was looking for Rude, and Elena could have been selling her body at Wall Market for all he cared. She wondered if, after all these years, he still resented her for having replaced him after Midgar.

"Elena's right," Rude said, and resumed drinking. When he was done he sat back and wiped his lips on his sleeve. "Safety in numbers. Especially highly trained numbers. So if you got a problem, Reno, we oughtta work together."

Reno looked them both over, a challenge in his eyes. "Fine," he said shortly, leaving the words "you asked for it," unspoken. "Yeah, I got a goddamn problem. A huge bastard of a problem." He gestured toward the door. Elena saw that his hands were shaking. "A huge bastard of a problem that could break my goddamn neck with his little finger or just as easily break the Planet with his little finger, and he's goddamn stalking around somewhere right now wearing a black cape and looking for his goddamn 20 foot sword." Reno took a deep breath. He leaned forward and tiredly rested his forehead on his folded arms. "You still wanna help me?"

Elena gaped at him; she couldn't help it. _Well_, a small voice that she recognized as her own inner snark whispered to her, _you did ask, you know_.


	3. chapter three

_Aloha hou kakou! Mahalo big to everyone who has kept up with this story in the last week. As I've spent the last four years working sporadically on it, it does mean a lot to me to know that a few of you are reading it. That's awesome!_

_Again, I've split some chapters in order to keep the flow going. I think that I'll keep them split like this; I'm not fond of the way I chaptered it originally._

_I'm also not fond of the flashback-within-a-flashback scene in this section, which has Reno remembering a time when he remembered something. :/ I find it clumsy and confusing, and I think it needs some re-working._

_There's also something else I want to point up about this chapter, and it's my handling of ShinRa's destruction of Sector Seven from the game--specifically the involvement of Reno and Tseng. (That would be the flashback within a flashback part.) First, let me say that I'm totally one of these canon nazis who hates when fic writers diddle with the original storyline unless it's an AU fic (and I'm not always fond of those--they have to be real good to get me interested.) I write fanfic because I liked the original, not because I felt I needed to fix mistakes or because I wanted things to be different. Yet in this scene, I found myself adding my own spin on things to such an extent that it seems like I wimped out on the characterization of Reno and Tseng. I want to love these characters, and I do love them, the way I love the other characters. The writers of the game asked us to keep enjoying Reno and Tseng after they destroyed an entire city, and I totally did keep enjoying them._

_But, when writing about the event, I felt I had to justify my excusing them, and maybe that was wrong of me. I wrote this section before 9/11, and for a while I considered going back and changing it. Then 9/11 came around, and, when I picked this fic up again, I realized I couldn't change it: I had to keep them not entirely at fault. I did a huge Bad Writer Thing and excused the characters for their actions._

_Pretty silly, maybe, but in the end I left it like that. In the context of the story (because the theme will come up again, and again, and again,) maybe it's not so bad. But that's not for me to judge, so without any further babbling, here is part three._

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Reno had told Elena and Rude that he was going to his room alone. He didn't know where Sephiroth was, and he had begun to think he'd imagined the entire last few days. He'd run away from Sephiroth, which was not an act of cowardice by his reasoning, merely what any sane person who wanted to continue living would have done. Actually he hadn't run away so much as he had slipped quietly out of Midgar after Sephiroth had told him "I'll see you again," and left his house. But, he had found the two remaining Turks....

He had found the two remaining Turks, Reno thought to himself, as he sat down heavily on the bed at the Inn. He ran his hand over his face sleepily, then leaned back and reached out to the small bag he had taken with him. He withdrew the ElectroMag rod and looked it over. He flicked it on, and it hummed quietly to life.

He had found the two remaining Turks.

And he had handed them right over to Sephiroth, who would surely have had the skill and the means to follow him anywhere.

Of course, Sephiroth claimed that he meant them no harm, provided they didn't try to harm him. He just wanted their help. But on reflection, the idea of Sephiroth needing help was just as plainly ridiculous as the idea of Sephiroth NOT hurting someone. Sephiroth had been born--no, created--specifically to kill. And in that respect, he was perfect.

Reno felt his rational thoughts twist, muddle, and turn in on themselves once more. Everything suddenly looked oddly green, a color that was familiar to him.

What the hell had he been thinking? Sephiroth had told him to jump and he had asked how high. Now Sephiroth had all of the Turks together and would likely kill them all, for whatever bullshit reason his sick, Hojo-twisted mind would make up. Reno had handed Rude and Elena right over to him just as surely and easily as Cloud had handed the black materia to him.

Reno placed the EMr directly over his heart and turned it to the highest setting. He had less than a second to wonder why the hell he was doing it, and to remember, with no small amount of horror, that he had done such things in the recent past as well.

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"No," Elena said, as Reno disappeared into the hallway at the Inn. She was trembling. Goddamnit, she needed to stop trembling and think clearly. Unless Reno had finally lost his last shred of sanity and was just wildly hallucinating or making things up, Sephiroth was probably somewhere in Costa Del Sol. "No, I don't think we should leave him alone."

Rude didn't answer, but peered nervously down the hall.

"Rude, do you believe him?"

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah, I think that one of them is out there."

"One of them?" Elena asked. "What do you m--"

"It's obvious," Rude said. "Sephiroth's dead. It's a clone."

Elena was startled enough to stop shaking. There had been so few clones since the outlawing of human cloning that she'd very nearly forgotten about them. And she had never expected to see another Sephiroth.

A clone. She could handle a clone.

"Rude," she said, breaking the silence once more, "I think we should stay with him. You know Reno better than I do, but..."

"He ain't right," Rude finished.

Elena nodded and looked toward the hallway. Without looking back at Rude, she walked toward Reno's door and knocked on it. There was no answer, and she knew immediately, in her bones, and with her well trained instinct, that something was wrong. There was silence from beyond his door, but she had learned to recognize "right" silences and "wrong" ones. This was wrong.

"Reno!" she called.

She didn't expect an answer, but before she had a chance to listen for one, Rude was moving her aside and shoving the door open with all his weight behind it.

"Shit," Elena whispered when the door flew open. Even Rude was too stunned to act immediately.

Reno lay sprawled face down on the floor, twitching slightly. The ElectroMag rod was buzzing on the floor next to him.

Rude kicked it away and turned Reno onto his back. He stuck his fingers on Reno's neck, felt for a pulse, and sighed. "Still there," he said.

"Materia," Elena said softly, fear rising in her chest and nearly choking her voice. "Do you have any materia? Restore, or...Revive?"

Rude's dark skin had gone ashen and he shook his head. "You?" he asked.

"Haven't been able to afford it for over a year," she said. "Oh no, Rude." Panic made her feel weak and desperate. It had happened once before, when they had found Tseng and not had the means to save him. She didn't know if she could relive that.

"Reno!" Rude hollered, and slapped him across the face. Reno twitched slightly but didn't open his eyes.

"Crap!" Elena said. "Rude, you don't have to beat the hell out of him...."

She trailed off as she noticed that Rude had gone an even more impossible shade of pale, and wasn't looking at Reno anymore. She followed his gaze to the open doorway and felt the blood rush from her brain to her extremities, sending her mind into a dizzy spiral. She found that her mouth was suddenly too dry for her to even cry out.

"Move," Sephiroth ordered in a businesslike tone.

_It's a clone,_ she told herself. And a clone wouldn't have the training or the power that the original had had. She could handle it.

But Elena had seen clones before, and they had rarely looked so... _So inhabited,_ her mind whispered to her. If it was just a clone, why was his presence making her hair want to stand on end as he approached her?

Rude was the first to stand up, and, though obviously terrified and feeling the same thing she was feeling, he resolutely stood in front of Reno. He pulled his gun out of his jacket and prepared to fire it.

Sephiroth almost frowned for a second, then gave an amused sort of smirk. It seemed that he was about to laugh, but instead he waved his hand as if he was pushing something out of his way.

She realized a second later that it was exactly what he had been doing, though not even touching them, as both she and Rude were sent sprawling backwards and away from Reno. She saw Rude's gun fly from his hand and land across the room. She tried to get back up, but found she was too weak to move.

The full horror of what was happening settled in her heart. A clone couldn't have done that. It was Sephiroth; she could feel him. She could feel his tremendous power and it was like a tsunami turning her over. She was terrified, but strangely fascinated. He was simply awesome in his force.

She watched, unable to look away, as he went down on one knee beside Reno, who had become alarmingly still. He looked up and made eye contact with her, and she felt choking fear to her core.

"Do you know what happened?"

It took her a second to realize that he was talking to her. He was asking her, presumably, about Reno, as if he wasn't responsible for it. All she could do was shake her head.

Sephiroth picked up the EMr lying by Reno and frowned as he turned it off. "Was someone in here with him?" he asked her, as he placed his hand over Reno's chest.

Elena found her voice, and she used it to scream, "Don't touch him!" She found she was repulsed by the idea of Sephiroth laying hands on Reno, or on anyone for that matter.

She saw a fleeting moment of surprise on his face, before it turned into a patronizing look that told her exactly what he thought of her orders.

Elena struggled to free herself from whatever grip he had on her, until she saw the cool green aura flowing from his hand.

After a few seconds, Reno took a long breath.

Sephiroth looked passively at Reno for a moment, his face showing no expression other than one of mild interest. He could have been looking at stock quotes. Then he strode calmly over to where Rude's gun had fallen and picked it up.

Elena had never seen Rude cringe, but he did so when Sephiroth approached him with the gun. Rude slowly opened his eyes when no shot rang out. Sephiroth stood above him, holding the gun by the barrel and offering the handle to Rude. Rude took it very slowly and let it dangle limply from his hand as Sephiroth turned his back on both of them and quietly left the room.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"Reno! Reno! Reno!"

The voice was very small, but growing louder. It was distant, but growing closer.

He was afraid to open his eyes, because he somehow knew that when he did, people would be hovering over him, and there was almost nothing as bad as waking up with people hovering over you when you didn't know where you were, or why you were there. He knew this from experience.

He let his eyes open a crack and saw Elena looking down at him. _Now what?_ he asked himself. Had he dreamed the entire episode with Sephiroth? Had he dreamed the entire last few years? Had he, in fact, dreamed Meteor and Avalanche?

Possibly, but he trusted the one thing that he awoke realizing every single morning since he was twenty: he was a Turk. No matter what had ever happened before, ranging from taking a short nap to being almost killed in battle, that was the one thing that he had never, ever forgotten upon waking.

As of just then, it was one of the only things of which he was positive, aside from the fact that Elena was with him, and Rude as well, and they were also Turks.

Oh yes. And Tseng was dead. It was always the next memory to return, and with it came a pang of guilt, swift and hard.

"Are you all right?" she was asking him.

He licked his lips and tried to rid himself of the coppery taste that was in his dry mouth. "Oh, I'm just ducky, thanks."

"What happened?"

Reno thought that one over. He'd been hoping that Elena would be able to clue him in on that subject, just as she had four years ago when he'd woken up in the ShinRa infirmary. Only that time, Elena had been crying. He let his eyes close again and slipped restlessly into the past.

-------------------------------------------------------

_The rookie sat beside his bed, crying. It was irritating and he wished she would leave. Why the hell did she have to sit there and watch him be in pain? It was goddamn humiliating. More so because he had no idea why he was in a hospital bed watching the syrupy Mako drip from a squishy bag into a clear tube which he assumed was connected to a needle, which he assumed was connected to him._

_"Go away," he muttered to Elena. "I wanna be alone."_

_Elena blew her nose. "I need to talk to you," she said._

_"No, you need to go away."_

_He heard her take a steadying breath. "Rude asked me to come," she said._

_He turned his head and looked at her, trying to discern if she was telling the truth. It was no secret in ShinRa that Rude was his best friend, whom he trusted more than anyone._

_Elena nodded, though he had not even voiced his doubts. "He wanted me to stay with you...talk to you while he was away."_

_"What the hell for?" he snapped. Did Rude think he was such a weakling that he couldn't tend his injuries--wherever the hell they had come from--by himself? _

_"Well..." Elena looked startled, and for some strange reason unbeknownst to him, scandalized. "Well because of what you...of what happened to you," she said._

She was going to say "because of what you did," _Reno thought. He stared at the ceiling. God, how he hated to admit to her that he had no idea what he had done, or what had happened to him. "Well?!" he finally snapped._

_"Well," Elena said, wiping her tears away, "Rude says that you didn't realize exactly what you were doing when you, you know. He thinks the drug made you...I don't know, unreasonable or something."_

_Reno thought hard, trying to bring back the last thing he remembered. He remembered going for the Mako treatment, as they usually did right before an important and dangerous mission. He remembered a worried looking lab technician strapping his arm down, and then drawing Mako out of a vial._

_"Why can't we just drink it?" he had asked. "I feel like a goddamn druggie."_

_"Well you don't look like one," the tech had said. "The Mako immediately seals up any puncture marks you'd get from normal IV treatments. And if you took it orally, it would burn your stomach lining out."_

_"Shut up, I know that," Reno said. And he did know it, he just liked to complain about it. It was stupid and he'd always thought so. He was a good enough fighter without Mako. On the other hand, he thought, he had to admit, it was somewhat slightly helpful...sometimes, ha ha...that he was able to take bullets and wounds from other weapons and remain standing while the Mako healed him from the inside out. He had been warned that it wouldn't work in the most extreme cases of battle, but was good for most injuries._

_"Just a little prick with a needle," the tech said._

_"Yeah, so are the rest of you dummies." _

_The tech either didn't hear the insult or decided not to acknowledge it as he jabbed the needle into Reno's vein. Reno impatiently drummed his fingers while the Mako made its way into his system and made his arm burn slightly._

_He looked down and noticed that the technician had removed the tube of the syringe, but had left the needle in his arm like a catheter, with a rubber cap on the tube that led out. He was filling another syringe with an opaque liquid._

_Reno twisted his arm in the strap. "What the hell are you..."_

_With a panicked look, the tech had already jabbed the needle through the rubber cap and injected the murky fluid into him. Reno reached out with his free hand and grabbed him by the throat. "What the hell was that, you bitch?" he growled._

_The man's eyes were wide with terror as Reno pulled him closer to his face. "Painkiller," he croaked out, trying to pry Reno's fingers from around his throat._

_"Painkiller? You think you can just shoot people full of drugs without asking them first? Who told you to...Who gave you the order...?"_

_He'd wanted to continue, but the man's face was blurred around the edges, as if a child had colored him outside the lines. He let his free hand fall from around the technician's neck. He felt as if some invisible hand was trying to push his head forward, and he couldn't sit straight in the chair._

_"ShinRa..." the man wheezed, stumbling backwards. "ShinRa's orders, Hojo's idea."_

_Suddenly everything snapped back into sharp focus. Reno was able to look up. He began to see everything in fine, contrasted detail. He looked at the technician, who was still gasping for breath. Reno could read fear in his eyes, and something else. Guilt. Contrition. He remembered being aware of all those things._

_It was beautiful._

_Tseng had seemingly floated into the lab. He looked hyper-real in his dark suit that contrasted so sharply with his pale skin. His black eyes looked as focused as Reno's felt, and there was a glowing Mako sheen over them as he grinned at Reno, and he was perfectly predatory. Reno had never seen Tseng look so predatory before._

_It was glorious._

_"I'm here to give you your orders," Tseng said, and his voice was clear and crisply edged._

_It was absolutely, maliciously wonderful._

_Reno had remembered those things as he lay in the hospital after that mission, and he'd remembered what his orders had been._

_In the weeks to come, most people would know that Reno of the Turks was laid up in the infirmary after the destruction of the support pillar over Sector Seven. But, most people had thought that it had to do with the glaringly deep slash down his front that had been made by Cloud Strife's weapon. In fact, that had healed quickly, due in large to extensive Mako treatments. Only very few people had known what was really keeping him in there, and Tseng, Rude and Elena were among them._

_Tseng had come to grips a lot quicker than Reno had. But Tseng hadn't pushed the button._

_Rude had come to visit him often, and during one of those visits, over a game of cards, had suggested leaving the Turks._

_"No one leaves the Turks," Reno had said bitterly._

_"Vincent Valentine..."_

_"Vincent Valentine is a ghost story. He's dead."_

_Rude looked as devastated as Reno had felt. "The Turks weren't meant to be puppets," he said softly. "I just can't believe what they did to you and Tseng."_

_Rude had been serious about leaving, just running and trying to survive without ShinRa. He hadn't approached Tseng about it, and he hadn't told Elena, because it was becoming obvious to Rude that Elena would go wherever Tseng went._

_But before he'd had the chance to make any plans at all, old man ShinRa had been killed, and his young son with his silkysoft, deadlylow voice had promised never to play the Turks in that way again. "Drugs are dangerous," he'd told Reno in his smoothly controlled monotone. "They muddle your mind. I want my Turks to be aware of what they're doing at all times."_

"My Turks," _Reno could remember thinking. Always, always, the Turks had belonged to ShinRa in one way or another; always they were The Turks, one entity instead of three different people, like some kind of deadly courtesan to the royal family._ No, not puppets, _Reno had thought back then._ Just one three-way whore.

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In a dark hotel room in Costa Del Sol, ten years after the destruction of Sector Seven, Reno slept fitfully as Elena stared out the window, watching for a man in a black cloak. Rude silently watched the television with the sound down.

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"I'm a...I'm a little hesitant to commit to this idea," the crackly voice said over the telephone.

"Well it's a little too late, Bradburn, you already saw Reeve, right?"

"Yes I did," he answered. "He seemed hesitant as well. I'm not convinced that he actually had enough to do with the Turks that he'd be able to locate them. And if he does, I just don't..." He hesitated and seemed to rethink what he was going to say before going on. "I just don't see them going for it."

The other voice chuckled bad-naturedly. "You don't know the Turks the way I do."

"I don't, but..."

"Let me tell you something about the Turks, Bradburn. The Turks are a group of highly skilled, highly trained, highly paid whores. They might be the best thinkers and the best fighters on the Planet, with very few exceptions, but if you dangle enough gil and power in front of them, they'll roll over for you. Especially Reno."

"Pathologically warped," Bradburn said in a reedy voice.

"Is that what Reeve said? Well, Reeve had a point. Reno was the one who crushed Sector Seven. Well, he pushed the button, anyway. Possibly the most difficult to buy might be Elena. But Rude will go along with anything Reno wants to do, Elena will follow if they both do it, and Reno will do anything that involves gil or power. So put it in Reeve's head to make Reno the new leader."

"But I don't know if..."

"I have their first mission lined up," the sharp voice on the other end said, cutting him off. "They'll like it. It's destructive."


	4. chapter four

_Here we are with another section of this long fic. Only one flashback in this, I promise. I should also point out that there is a lot in this part that comes directly from the game itself, and two instances in which what I wrote here could have gone differently, depending on how I'd played the game. So it's likely that anyone else out there will have played differently, and these two instances in this fic would not have applied to your game. That's part of what I love so much about FFVII, all the choices you had. The choices teh player made also slightly changed the character of Cloud, don't you think? Does he let Elena punch him? Does he let the Turks off the hook at the end? (For that matter, does he get into the hot tub with the naked guys in the beginning, does he wear the silk underwear and almost kiss Don Corneo? )_

And, I've always been partial to the scene with Reeve and the Turks, myself. :) 

-

Sephiroth

-

It came as no surprise to Sephiroth that the Turk had run from him. Most people, from what he remembered, had always run from him in one form or another. It was fine with him. The Turk was easy enough to follow, and was someone he remembered.

He sat down and leaned against the wall of the bridge right outside of Costa Del Sol. There were people looking for him, more than likely. If he could manage to piece together what he remembered, he would know which way to go to keep away from them. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, thinking back to when he had awoken, weeks, or maybe even months before.

-

_"...phenomenally accelerated growth rate..."_

"...inhabited..."

"...twenty seven is alive..."

"...twenty seven is conscious..."

"...twenty seven..."

They had been calling him "twenty seven," but he knew his name was Sephiroth.

"Sephiroth..." he had tried to say, and was furious when all that came out was a whisper.

Everyone had stopped talking suddenly. He felt their eyes all over him, and he felt their fear and their own weakness.

"Did he say..." someone had muttered.

He opened his eyes. A woman was staring into his face, and he saw her eyes widen in terror as he looked at her. She jumped back and he tried to sit up-quickly, to surprise and intimidate-but found that he was restrained.

The woman took a moment to cower in the corner, whimpering, while someone else observed, "It's inhabited."

The woman in the lab coat resolutely straightened herself up, and Sephiroth sighed quietly. They were all alike when they were afraid, but it was somehow even more pathetic when they tried to conquer it. He had understood for a long time that there was no use in trying to conquer fear. You either did or didn't.

She approached him slowly and steadily. "Did you say your name is Sephiroth?" she asked quietly.

He nodded. Of course his name was Sephiroth, and if these people didn't recognize him immediately, then he must have somehow ended up at the farthest, most primitive reaches of the Planet. And yet, as he looked around he saw that their laboratory-for that was where he was-was far from primitive.

"We should have known you would be the one, when you began to look just like him. Or rather just like...yourself," she said. "Down to the last detail." She picked up a strand of his long hair and looked at it in wonder. "Amazing."

Either she was purposely trying to confuse him and get him to let his guard down, or she was insane and babbling stupidly at him.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked him.

The question jolted him and he tried to hide it. Nothing. He remembered nothing except his own name, and Hojo.

And then it had come to him slowly. He could remember a deeply cold feeling in his chest, heaviness, ice, and finally surrender.

And the warm cocoon of the Lifestream.

He realized that he had been dead, and somehow brought back.

"Say something, Sephiroth," the woman said.

He glanced at her lazily. Someone had ripped him out of the Lifestream and now he was being asked to have a conversation.

  
In the days that followed, people had come to talk to him, while he said as little as he could, aside from asking, reasonably he thought, if they would let him up. Not yet, they all said. "Not until you're better."

They spent a lot of time talking to him about ShinRa, about the Turks, and about SOLDIER. Most of all they asked about the man who had killed him, asked him if he remembered being killed, if he remembered the man who was responsible, if he remembered the pain, if he remembered the name Cloud Strife.

They seemed to have forgotten whom exactly they were dealing with, and hadn't realized that he could see right through them. They were trying to poison him against this Cloud Strife (a boy, a mouthy, surly teenager trying to be SOLDIER material...) for their own purposes, and they wouldn't let him up until they were sure he was on their side, as if he could be tricked or talked into taking any side but his own.

He didn't remember much about his past, but he did have the persistent sense memory of people all through his life trying to control him, and failing miserably. He wondered what made this particular group of scientists think they were any different at all. He had certainly been hurt, as everyone had, but as far as he could remember, nothing-nothing-had ever gotten control of his mind. It had always been the one sacred section of his entire being that was all his.

And these scientists had done nothing to make sure that he was "better," for that matter. There was no food or water, only a steady Mako drip.

They must also have thought that physical strength came from physical activity, which to an extent, it did. But the other thing that Sephiroth remembered was that, in reality, the power to manifest physical strength had very little to do with whether you trained every day, or lay strapped to a table every day. And when he had finally manifested enough strength, he simply pulled both his arms together briskly and snapped the bonds like string.

He had slipped out of the lab, killed the first man he'd seen, and taken his clothes and traveling cloak out of necessity. You had to do that when you were at war, and these people had started a war with him.

He'd also realized that when they found the dead man missing his clothing, they would know exactly what to look for. (The man had been tall and fat, and his shirt hung off of Sephiroth's shoulders like a stupid nightshirt, while he had to cinch the pants tight with the belt.) But that was no great matter and he trusted he could get around them easily, even without a weapon. A group of startled people was more easily distracted than a group of startled lab rats.

When they had finally sounded the security breach alarm and locked all the doors, they had locked themselves in. But they had also locked the doors behind him.

_And the alarms,_ Sephiroth thought, as he sat against the bridge by Costa Del Sol. The alarms in the lab, the sound of the slamming doors, the flashing lights... They had reminded him of something as well, but it was a memory that wouldn't come at the time, and he didn't have time to concentrate on it just then. He glanced at the tattoo on the back of his hand: XXVII. He supposed sooner or later all the memories would come back.

But first he had to find Strife in this maze, so he would follow the few people whom he remembered, who knew their way around it.

-

The Turks

-

"We can't go looking for Strife," Reno said quietly, as he huddled over his drink in the basement of what used to be Rufus ShinRa's villa. He felt trapped. No: he was trapped, as were the rest of the Turks. It had taken very nearly the last of his gil to get a lift to Junon and then stowaway on the boat to Costa Del Sol. He had barely enough to feed himself, and his guess was that the other two Turks were in the same situation. After all, none of them could afford to stay in the Inn for another night.

"I say we just give Sephiroth what he wants," Elena said suddenly. "What the hell is Cloud Strife to us anyway?"

Reno looked up at her, not hiding the surprise on his face. Then he dropped his head into his hand and rubbed his temples._ God_, he thought, _getting your brain toasted gives you such a headache.  
_  
"Look, Elena," he said, and sighed wearily before going on, taking the time to figure out how to best phrase what he had to say. "I know that you loved Tseng."

Elena looked stricken and opened her mouth to speak.

"We all did," Reno went on, before she could say anything. "But-and believe me, this is really hard for me to say, even after all these years-but put yourself in Strife's place. We were the bad guys. I guess he had a thing for Aerith, but either way, she was his friend, and Tseng took her away from them and gave her to Hojo. We all know the kinds of things Hojo did. We all know from experience."

"Right," Elena said," and wasn't that right before you so euphorically killed thousands of people?" Right after she said the words, she put both hands over her mouth. She looked pained for a moment, then dropped her hands to the table.

Reno stared at her, his mouth parting slightly in surprise. "I know that," he whispered in a shocked voice. "I know why that all happened, Elena. I didn't forget. God, believe me, I know what Tseng was going through."

Elena looked down at her drink. "I'm sorry," she said, and Reno knew that she meant it. "I'm just saying that..."

"Look," he said, cutting her off again, "you have to look at it this way. What if Strife had come along and taken Tseng away from us? Then, down the road, you found him in need of help. What would you have done? Wasted your good Restore materia on him?"

Elena shook her head slowly, numbly. "No," she murmured.

"And don't forget, Elena, that by helping Sephiroth, you'd be helping the one who killed Tseng in the first place."

Elena nodded, but wouldn't look at either of the two Turks.

Reno gazed down into the bottom of his glass. He didn't particularly care for Cloud, but had nothing against him. Hell, how could he, he reminded himself once more. Cloud was the hero who had saved the Planet. Reno didn't necessarily want anything to do with him, but he couldn't bring harm upon him either when there didn't seem to be a need to.

"There has to be a way to get word out that Sephiroth is back," Rude said.

"Yeah, but even so," Reno pointed out, "we don't even have the gil to look for Strife, or to get to him if we learned where he was."

"So what are we going to do, Reno?" Elena snapped. "Just lock the door to this basement and hope that Sephiroth doesn't come knocking again? That he's just going to go away? He came to you for a reason, and I could be wrong, but he doesn't strike me as the type of guy to say, 'Well, they don't want me around so I'll just leave them alone.'"

Reno stared at her for a moment before dropping his gaze again. "Then you think of something, Elena. I'm out of ideas."

_Not only of ideas_, he thought, _but apparently of all reasoning and retaining capabilities too_. For, as hard as he tried, he could simply not remember how he'd ended up lying on the floor, fried by his own weapon. This scared him maybe even more than Sephiroth did, because Reno had always had nearly perfect memory.

Elena and Rude had told him about Sephiroth coming in to heal him. He obviously knew where they were. What was stopping him from barging in that very second? Elena was right, Sephiroth wasn't one to give up and go away. Reno wondered morbidly if he had found something else to occupy his time while he waited for them to make their move. But what the hell could have made Sephiroth want to help him? Did he really need to keep him around that badly? Reno found the very idea ridiculous.

Elena and Rude had told him it was obviously a clone, but they felt that somehow, it was the true Sephiroth as well. Reno hadn't even been aware that cloning was still going on these days. But he'd looked into those bright eyes, and he agreed with Elena's and Rude's assessment: somehow, clone or no, Sephiroth had come back from the Lifestream.

They all jumped when they heard the door to the villa open. It barely made a sound, and Reno knew that an ordinary, non-enhanced person probably would not have heard it.

Rude already had his hand on his gun, for all that was worth, and was getting up. Reno set his nightstick on a low level, enough to stun even an enhanced person. He knew it might be Sephiroth, but in case it wasn't, he didn't want to risk accidentally killing someone. And if it was Sephiroth, it wouldn't matter anyway. If he did finally want to hurt them, Reno and his nightstick would have nothing to say about it.

"The stairs creak," Elena whispered, "I'm the lightest, so I'll go up first."

"Elena," Reno whispered, holding her back by the arm, "I don't think..."

"Get your hand off me," she whispered, and pulled away. "I can take care of myself."

Reno held both hands up. "Fine," he said, and backed off. But he followed her up the stairs.

Elena cracked the door open the tiniest bit and peered through. She looked back, from Reno to Rude, with a frown on her face. Then she peered out again.

"What?" Reno said.

Elena turned to face them. "It's Reeve," she said, still frowning in confusion.

-

Rude stared at Reeve from behind his sunglasses. Rude was just as unsettling as ever. He didn't say a word, but then, Reeve hadn't expected him to.

Reeve had expected Reno and Elena to start talking immediately, but neither of them did. He was disconcerted by the fact that both Reno and Elena were more unsettling than they'd ever been.

He honestly hoped that things were okay with them. It was always touchy dealing with ex-ShinRa people, and most that were still ShinRa loyals wouldn't have anything to do with him unless it involved thumbscrews or spiked chairs. Still other ShinRa loyals didn't want to waste time with revenge and just wanted him dead. But he had always respected the Turks, and he liked them on a personal level as well. He'd felt that they'd been played by ShinRa, just as he had been.

"Cloning facility?" Rude finally said.

Reeve blinked in mild surprise that Rude had spoken up. "Yes," he said.

"This has something to do with a cloning facility," Rude stated, as if he was trying to make absolutely sure that that was what Reeve was telling him.

"Yes," Reeve said again.

Reno finally spoke up. "Any civilians?"

"I don't know, Reno. As far as I know, you're to look into this cloning facility on an island just south of the Northern Continent. At least that's what this guy told me. As for what the actual mission is, he wouldn't tell me that."

"This guy...Bradburn?" Elena said.

"Right, that's what he said his name was."

"And did he say the names of the people he worked for? The actual names?"

"He called them 'Hunters,' and aside from that, he didn't give me any details. He wants to meet with you for the rest of it."

No one said anything. Rude kept staring at him. Elena looked deep in thought. Reno looked disturbed by the whole idea.

"He really didn't tell me much, so I'm not sure..." Reeve began, but he was cut off by Rude.

"Why?" Rude asked.

"...Why?"

"Why all of a sudden does someone want it checked out?"

"Because they just found it, I think. At the rate they've been turning out clones, I only wonder why they weren't found sooner."

All of the Turks were strangely silent. He'd expected at least Reno, and especially Elena, to be throwing questions and comments at him by this time. They both seemed different from the people he remembered. Rude had always been quiet and reserved, Reeve knew that, but he didn't remember Elena ever looking so...so aggressively bitter. And he would never have thought to see Reno looking so tiredly defeated.

"So," Reeve said, sitting back on the musty old sofa that hadn't been used by anyone in years, with the exception of the few beach-goers who had broken in once in a while. "Why don't you all tell me what's going on? Why did I find you all here together?"

Elena was the first to speak up. "That's right," she said. "Why-or rather HOW did you find us here anyway?"

"Well, I knew to check Costa Del Sol first, at least for Rude. If Rude hadn't turned up, I would have checked Junon for Reno, but Elena, I must admit, I had no idea where you would have gone. I asked the Tavern owner if she had seen anyone who'd fit any of your descriptions, and she told me you'd been at the Inn, but you had left. ShinRa Villa seemed like the obvious place for ex-ShinRa personnel who were probably out of gil. I just didn't expect to find the three of you together."

"Why should we trust you, Reeve?" she asked. She sounded strangely gentle as she asked the question, as if she were just curious rather than suspicious.

"I'm not saying you should," Reeve said. "I'm just telling you what this guy told me. Personally, I wouldn't mind seeing you all work together again. But aside from that, why wouldn't you trust me?" he asked. "Is it still because I was an Avalanche...sympathizer?"

"Sympathizer? Reeve!" she snapped, her eyes widening in disbelief, "I think you were a little more than a sympathizer!"

"So I was an ally then, against ShinRa. But Elena, you know, we all know that ShinRa was... You know, it amazes me that even after all these years I have a hard time admitting that ShinRa was wrong. The whole corporation. It would have been easier, I'm positive-less of a panicking close call-if we'd all just stepped back and let Avalanche handle everything with Sephiroth and Meteor. ShinRa only got in their way. Elena," he went on softly, "do you still have loyalty to ShinRa?"

"No," she said. "I don't, of course I don't. I know that ShinRa played us just like they played everyone else. But I'm still a Turk. And I want to know why we should believe that this isn't all a trap set up by Strife and his people."

Reeve was honestly surprised; he hadn't expected that anyone would think Cloud had anything to do with this. Cloud, from what he understood, had long since stopped thinking about the Turks. He regarded Elena carefully for a moment, trying to discern if she really believed that or if she was still just angry that Cloud hadn't stopped to help Tseng. Her eyes were impossible to read. She'd developed a hell of a poker face over the years.

"I know Strife pretty well, or at least I did back then," Reeve said. "He was a lot of things. He was pretty nearly psychotic at one point, a seriously messed up kid. But he wasn't ever...petty. I think that's the word I'm looking for. Remember, Elena, right before Avalanche 'settled up with Sephiroth' as they used to say? You, Reno and Rude met up with them on their way. They let you walk."

Anger and hurt pride flared in Elena's eyes. "They didn't LET..."

"Yes, they did," Reno said quietly. "They let us off the hook that night, totally. It would have been stupid to fight, I guess, knowing what they were about to face, but even so. They were so powerful as a group at the time, they would have creamed us." He smiled weakly at her. "Turk Filet. I was always sort of cool with that. I know that I did some crappy things to Strife and his people. I guess we all did. And didn't you meet up with him at the Icicle Inn at one point, Elena?"

She nodded slowly.

"Do you remember what happened between you and Strife?" Reno asked.

"Yeah," she whispered. She cleared her throat and then spoke. "I...I thought he had killed Tseng. I took a swing at him." She laughed, a hard, cold laugh. "A really hard swing, too; I was so pissed. And so hurt."

"What did he do?" Reno asked her softly.

"He let me," she said, just as quietly.

Reeve smiled and sighed. Strife could be such an idiot sometimes. "Doesn't sound like a guy with a vendetta," he commented.

Elena raised her eyebrows and shrugged in mild consent as she accepted his argument.

Then the Turks all looked at each other, suddenly very nervous, Reeve was dismayed to note. It was as if they were silently communicating with each other. Perhaps they would tell him why they had all been in the cellar of ShinRa's old villa. When they seemed to come to an unspoken decision, it was Rude who finally spoke up.

"Sephiroth is back," he said.

Reeve felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, and found that he was shaking his head in denial before his mouth even got to working. "That can't be," he said, feeling stupid the minute it was out of his mouth.

"Well, it is," Reno said irritably.

"I'm sure it's a clone," Elena said. "But it's inhabited. And I feel...well, we all do...that it's definitely, you know. Sephiroth."

Reno explained to Reeve what had happened, and how they ended up in the basement at Costa Del Sol.

Reeve listened in stunned silence, fear making him feel cold, making his limbs tingle with adrenaline. There were other aspects of the story that bothered him as well, such as Reno getting attacked and not remembering it. It was odd enough that someone had been able to sneak up on a former Turk, but for Reno to have no recollection of it made him think that someone had used some sort of time or status materia on him first. And materia wasn't easy to come by these days. Yet, Sephiroth seemed to have some. And he also couldn't figure out why, if Sephiroth had materia, he was using Restore or Revive. (Elena had pointed out, as Reno looked away, that neither she nor Rude had been sure which materia he had used.)

"I have a question for you," Reno spoke up finally. "What the hell is all this talk about clones being 'inhabited' or not?"

Reeve looked at him, not sure exactly what he was asking. "How do you mean, Reno?"

"I mean," Reno said, "what the hell does it mean, exactly. I've never heard about it before. For that matter, I wasn't even aware that cloning was still going on these days."

Reeve leaned forward slightly, as if trying to get a better look at Reno. "Where have you been?" he asked.

Reno smiled for the first time that evening, but it wasn't a cheerful smile. It was more ironic and self deprecating. "NeoMidgar," he said.

"Well..." Reeve said, trying not to show his astonishment, "well basically it means that there is a...I hesitate to use the word 'soul'..."

"Why?" Reno asked.

"Why what?"

"Why do you hesitate to use the word 'soul'?"

Reeve looked at him carefully, making sure Reno wasn't just being a pain in the ass. He wasn't. "Because, when you start to think of it in those terms, you get into spirituality, and everyone has a different belief. It complicates things. It brings into the subject the idea of what makes a person a person. So, as it is, no one is really sure of anything other than the fact that some clones are obviously people, and some are just living bodies."

"And one of them is Sephiroth," Reno said softly.

Elena sighed and sat down on the floor. "How much?" she asked.

"How much what, Elena?" Reeve said.

"How much gil, Reeve?"

Reeve smiled. That was more like it. "Thirty thousand. Each. Plus materia. That much I do know."

Reno whistled softly in amazement. "Serious about it, huh?"

"Up front," Elena said, before Reeve could answer.

"Of course."

"It's not as much as Reno seems to think," Elena pointed out. "These sunglasses that none of us seem to have been able to part with cost about five thousand gil. But I guess going so long without any gil makes it seem like a lot more."

"It is a lot," Rude said. "Just not a lot for a Turk."

There was a drawn out silence as the Turks seemed to let it all settle in.

"All right," Reno finally said, slowly. He smiled, and for an instant Reeve saw the Reno he had known when ShinRa and company were at the height of their power. "I'm in. At least to meet the guy."

"Well...Good!" Reeve said. He was surprised by how happy he was to see them all together again. "These people, they call themselves Hunters; apparently the group is made up of former ShinRa employees who weren't happy with the way things were run, as well as some new recruits. Not as underground as Avalanche was, and it does seem like they have more gil and manpower. As with all large, powerful groups, you'll have to watch your backs with these people. This Bradburn guy was hinting that they wanted you, Reno, to be the new leader of the Turks."

Instead of looking smug or happy, Reno looked startled to hear his name. "Why?" he asked suspiciously. Then he became the old Reno once more. "I mean, aside from that I'm awesome and everything," he added, smiling.

"Well, he tried to hint at it, but he wasn't very subtle," Reeve told him. "He didn't say why."

Reno sighed and looked serious again. "I can't."

Everyone in the room looked at him, stunned that he would turn down the offer.

"What?" he asked them all. "I'm being honest, it's too serious for me to screw around with. A couple of years ago I could have done it. But now I'm getting my ass toasted and not remembering it. That's just not cool, Reeve."

"Well," Reeve said, "you do have a point, Reno. Though, I had always thought you'd end up being the leader. Before Rufus died and ShinRa fell."

"Rufus was a prick," Reno said. "We were all going to leave him anyway. Otherwise I would have been the leader of the Turks back then, after Tseng, you know... But now I think it should be Elena."

Elena didn't seem to have understood him at first. Then she turned her head slowly and looked at him. And for a tiny, almost hidden moment, Reeve also saw the old Elena: eager and optimistic.

"I mean, I always thought she'd make a really good Turk, given the chance," Reno went on, talking more to Elena than anyone else. "She's a little hyper, and she still lets her emotions get in the way of her reasoning." He grinned, trying to soften what he was saying. "She needs a little more control. But she's smart enough to handle it."

"She should be field commander, too," Rude stated. "Since Reno's not up to it."

Elena looked at Rude, as if to ask him if he meant exactly what it sounded like he meant. He nodded to her. He had indeed just handed Reno's old job over to her. She quickly turned her look into a coolly surprised smile. "I'll do it," she said.

Reeve smiled back. "Good. So you'll be calling shots on the missions. Keep in mind though, Elena," Reeve went on, "that if we do ever locate the remaining Turk, and he does want his job back, you might have to relinquish the position. You might still be field commander, however, if that's what everyone wants. Is that all right with you? If it's not, say so now so you can work it out."

The three Turks frowned at him, but none of them said anything. Rude lowered his sunglasses and peered over the top of them. Elena had gone pale.

"What was that?" Reno finally said, leaning slightly toward Reeve as if he had misheard him.

"Valentine?" Rude asked.

"Val- no," Reeve said, as it occurred to him that it was possible none of them knew. Entirely possible. "Not Vincent Valentine. Tseng."

Rude placed a steadying hand on Elena's shoulder as she swayed.

"That's not funny, Reeve," Reno said. "Why the hell would you say something like that?"

"Reno," Reeve said, "all of you, I know I never got a chance to talk about this with you since everything went to hell right after we went to the Temple of the Ancients, with Weapon, Meteor and Sephiroth and everything. But then I assumed you would have figured it out."

"Figured what out?" Elena asked, a little shrilly.

Reeve almost felt like crying. Ten years and none of them had known. "Figured out that Tseng wasn't killed that night." He looked around at their stunned faces. Elena was beginning to cry. "I was in the Temple too, remember, but not in my own body. Don't you realize that I was there as Cait Sith? That I had my own materia? Think back! I went in after you did. I was with Avalanche as Cait Sith; they didn't know who I was, they only saw me as a traitor, but I had them by the balls and I came with them anyway. You had to know I'd be there! How could you not? Avalanche arrived _after_ the Turks did. Strife and his gang went in first. They left Tseng by the altar near the entrance and I came in after them. I had my own Revive materia, and I got Tseng out. It was right before I relinquished that body so I could solve the puzzle, and downsized the Temple so we could keep the black materia from Sephiroth. _I _was the last one in. Did you really think I'd leave Tseng dead? Think about it! I figured that none of you had any materia left when you found him, otherwise you would have done it."

Reno nodded numbly. He glanced at Elena, who was shaking. Rude still had his hand on her shoulder. "We didn't have Revive, we had Restore, but we were too late. I didn't know...We thought that it was too late for Revive, too, even if we did have some. After a certain amount of time..."

"I know, I know," Reeve said. "But as Cait Sith I had a tremendous amount of materia slots, more than anyone in Avalanche at the time. I had worked with the materia a lot, the values in my Revive and Restore were very high by then, some to their full capacity."

"But," Elena said, "where did he...I mean, why didn't he come back? Did he say...?"

Reeve was silent for a moment. "He said he was going to the Forgotten Capital. I don't know, Elena. I've thought of the Sleeping Forest, and that he might be there. He almost definitely went to find Aerith. I don't even know for sure if he's alive now. I only know that he was when he left the Temple of the Ancients."

-

Elena lay awake in her bed at the Inn at Costa Del Sol. The lights were off, but she could still see everything in the room by the dim lights coming in from her window. They were harbor lights by the beach, and lights from the sidewalk below. Rude was right, Costa Del Sol was beautiful.

Elena mentally cursed herself. She cursed Tseng. She hadn't thought about him in a long time. She'd been free of him until this mission. She held herself from the edge of panic, the panic of wondering where in the hell her life was going. She was thirty, still the youngest of the Turks, but she simply felt so old. She drove back the panic of knowing that she had wasted so many years on Tseng, and she would never get those years back.

To hell with it. She'd been a stupid kid, naive for her age, especially for the job that she did, and she'd pinned all her hopes on him. Poor Tseng, so unknowing that it was his responsibility to save her from loneliness. He'd only asked her to dinner. How could he have known how intensely she'd felt about him? It probably would have scared him away from her forever, anyway.

To hell with it, and to hell with Tseng. He was probably dead anyway. He might as well have been too, for what it was worth. He hadn't come back. He'd known she existed, and that the other Turks existed, and he hadn't bothered to come back to them. He'd had ten years to do so. She couldn't honestly convince herself that he'd been searching for his old companions for those years and found nothing. For pity's sake, they'd all found each other in the space of two nights, with minimal effort. It wasn't hard to find the Turks, provided that you knew them.

No, Tseng was either dead and romping in the Lifestream with Aerith, where he most wanted to be (though she couldn't exactly imagine Tseng romping,) or he wanted nothing to do with them, or with her.

"So let him go," she told herself.

_Yes. Let him go. To hell with him._

But Elena still couldn't sleep. She couldn't get her brain around the fact that she was the new leader. The Turks were hers. Not Tseng's, not Heidegger's, not even ShinRa's. Technically they would all belong to this mysterious group that had hired them, but only in action, and that was only if she decided to that they should work with them. In reality, when it came down to final decisions, the group was hers. It was _theirs_.

She was suddenly afraid. She had never exactly wanted to lead the Turks, only because it never occurred to her to imagine that she would. It seemed that Reno was always the obvious choice after Tseng, since he'd always been field commander.

But there was something strangely wrong with Reno, and she felt it had less to do with someone sneaking up on him than the others seemed to think. Her instinct told her this. True, there had always been something wrong with Reno, but in a different way.

Resignedly, she swung her legs out of the bed and threw the covers back. She had to get up early-obscenely early, as Reno would say-but there was no point lying in the bed restlessly if she wasn't able to sleep. In the dark, she walked to the terrace doors, opened them, and stepped out.

The night air was warm and humid, and smelled of the ocean and sand. The lights from buoys played on the water, and they looked pretty enough, but the greenish ones still made her feel a little sick to her stomach. Light, glowing green.

Elena became aware of a soft, familiar hum or buzzing sound to her left. She turned to see Reno standing on the terrace of his room next to hers. She was about to say something to him, but stopped herself when she saw that he wasn't in any way aware of her presence.

She'd seen him toy with the EMr countless times before. She'd seen him absently, almost neurotically flick it on and off, or twirl it expertly on his fingertips with almost impossible balance, as if he didn't actually believe in gravity. She'd seen him hold it next to an unsuspecting person's head with the power on the lowest setting, and make their hair fly towards it. She'd even seen him scratch his back with it once in a while.

He was toying with the EMr again, but as she quietly stepped closer, the scene didn't seem right. He wasn't actually doing it absently. He was concentrating on it very hard, it seemed, with a semi dazed look on his face. His eyes were glassy and unblinking. His whole body swayed with his breathing, which would have seemed meditative had he not had a somewhat sad or worried look. He was watching the nightstick as he ran it up and down his arm, so close that it must have been painful. And she could hear from the volume of its humming that it was not at a low setting.

He ran it down his arm once more, to his fingertips. He was creeping her out very badly.

"Reno," she said.

He dropped the nightstick and leapt back as if something had jumped out at him. His sudden movement startled Elena badly enough that she jumped, too. His back was to the wall and his hand was over his heart as he stared at her, wide eyed.

"Goddamnit Reno!" she said, angry, not so much that he had startled her, but that he had scared her with his actions. "You scared the piss out of me, and what are you doing out here? What are you doing with that!" She pointed to the nightstick which lay buzzing on the terrace floor.

She was instantly reminded of the way it had been buzzing on the floor when she and Rude found Reno lying next to it the night before. The image, and what she had just seen, gave her a jolt of nervous sickness, the implications of which she wasn't ready to think about just yet.

Reno just stared at her, trying to figure out what to tell her. "I don't know," he finally whispered, and Elena heard a world of fear in his voice.

-


	5. chapter five

The next day the three Turks were on a submarine, staring at a map, as Mr. Bradburn-whom Reno immediately despised-was briefing them on their mission.

Elena was watching Bradburn with hawklike eyes, taking in everything he said. To Reno, who had worked closely with her, it was obvious that she didn't like Bradburn any more than he did. Rude glanced up once in a while from the bomb he was inspecting. Reno knew he was listening to the briefing, but was more interested in the explosives.

Reno looked from the map to Bradburn. The mission seemed perfect, almost like heaven to him. No civilians. Sneaking into a high security area. Blowing shit up and having to think while doing so. Extreme danger. And for once, a _cause_. It seemed flawless, and that was why he had a bad feeling about it. No mission was perfect. There didn't seem to be a downside to this, and he didn't like it.

"We'll be arriving on a small island just Northeast of Costa Del Sol, where we'll then be boarding a land shuttle continuing northeast. That will be on land," Bradburn said in his nasal voice.

Reno cringed every time he said something with an M or N in it. "Hence the name, 'land shuttle,'" he said irritably.

"Exactly," Bradburn said, seemingly unaware of the sarcasm.

Elena snickered, and Reno rolled his eyes and went back to twirling his nightstick.

"That will be a short ride, perhaps an hour to the next submarine base, and it will be midnight by then. You'll board, and at that time you may rest in your private room until we dock on the small island just south of the Northern Continent, as I'm sure you'll all be pretty tired at that point." He laughed nasally and Reno cringed again. "By sunrise we'll dock, and you'll take an armored van to a point just shy of the facility's hidden entrance, where you'll immediately head underground. No one will remain behind to cover you," Bradburn said slowly, as if to make sure they all understood.

He clicked the button and the slide of the map changed to one of a blueprint of the facility. "We managed to get this blueprint. We're not sure if it's still entirely accurate, but it can't have changed drastically. You'll start by disabling the security cameras at the front door. No personnel will be stationed there, since it would call attention to the hidden door. Disable the cameras for three seconds and no more, while you get into the facility. Any more time will be suspicious to those watching the security tape. One of you will temporarily short the cameras so that the three of you can get in.

"There is an air duct on the floor immediately to the left of the door. Enter it, and you'll be crawling underneath the laboratory for nearly the whole way. The first security office is to the right, just as you enter. If their door is open, or if there is someone walking around, you'll have to be prepared for that eventuality. They might come out to inspect the camera. You have to make sure you're all in the air duct by that time.

"Plant the first bomb close to the entrance. Mr., uhh, Rude will make certain that the timer is set with however much time you think you'll need to make it to the other end. The logistics are written on the map. It's a very large laboratory and a grueling crawl, I'm sorry to say. Halfway through, plant the second one," he said, indicating a point on the map. "You'll know the halfway mark when you come to a grating at which you can look up into a bathroom."

"A ladies' room?" Reno asked, trying to break the monotony.

"The bathrooms are unisex," Bradburn went on. "Again, set the second timer leaving enough time for you to get to the end. Towards the end, you will have to climb or grapple up the air duct to get back out. The equipment you'll need will be on the submarine, along with your materia. Plant the last bomb directly before the climb to the top.

"There is another door near the back. There are sure to be people around that area. We don't care what you do with them. Eliminate them if you have to; it won't make a difference at that point. Just make sure they don't escape, as they will not only have information on cloning, and on the facility, but also your personal descriptions. There will be a helicopter waiting for you at the other end when you get out."

He switched the slide back to an overview of the area on the Northern Continent that lay over the facility.

"Of course, you will have to get out before any of the bombs go off, since the resulting shockwave will collapse the ground over it and cave in the entire facility.

"Perhaps because of the underground building, there is very little Lifestream in this area. The facility seems to have acted as a sort of scar tissue to the Planet, so the blasts will not affect the Planet itself. The facility is using Mako to help their clones along, but since it's underground, and since the laboratory will act as a sort of seal over it, we won't have to worry about very much Mako pollution or leakage.

"Any questions?" he asked, clicking off the slide.

"I got one," Reno said, beginning to grin. Elena glanced sharply at him, as if she thought he was going to ask Bradburn about the stick up his ass or something, and she was warning him not to. He winked at her. "How come bathrooms that men and women can both use are called 'unisex'? Doesn't 'unisex' mean 'one sex?' Shouldn't they be called 'bisex' instead?"

Rude looked up from the bomb and shook with silent laughter.

-

Later that night, Reno lay half awake on the bunk bed in the submarine, which was headed for the Northern Continent. There was no light from the other beds, so he assumed Elena and Rude were asleep, or at least had their eyes closed. Elena was in the bunk above his, and Rude was in the one across from his, by the door.

The whole mission seemed too perfect. It was bugging the hell out of him. Something was amiss; it just felt wrong. He couldn't sleep.

He put his foot on the bottom of Elena's bunk, which was above him, and kicked it.

"What?" Elena mumbled in annoyance.

"Can you sleep?" he asked her softly, so that he wouldn't wake Rude.

"Well I just fell asleep, Reno, and then you woke me up."

"But you couldn't sleep before then?"

He heard her sigh heavily. "All right," she sighed, "what's the matter?"

"It's this whole mission. It just seems a little funny, and by 'funny' I don't mean 'Boffo the Clown' funny."

There was a long silence, and Reno assumed she had fallen back to sleep. He turned over and looked toward Rude's bed to see if his eyes were open. They didn't seem to be.

"I know," Elena finally said. "Do you think it's a trap?"

"You mean like a kamikaze trap? Kill two birds with one stone kind of thing?"

"Yeah."

"No, I don't think so. Besides, we're too smart for these people. Their plan isn't bad, but it's simple. They don't seem to know much about being ready for the unexpected. It's almost as if they don't care how sloppy it is. But that's not what bothers me. It just seems too easy, and too..."

"Too perfect," Rude finished, from his bunk across the room.

"Right," Reno said. "And Bradburn didn't hang around for very long to answer questions, did you notice that? He was out of there really fast."

"Like his ass was on fire and his head was catching," Rude noted.

"I know," Elena concurred. "There's something else that's bothering me, I just can't figure out what it is. It's an easy mission and we've done these things before. I know this body factory needs to go. But why not expose it? Just expose it, shut it down?"

"Because using ShinRa's Turks against ShinRa's leftovers is expedient and relatively cheap," Reno said. "We've been cleaning up after these scientists for years. This is the easiest way."

"True," Elena said. "And if they were to just expose this body factory, there would be too much to lose from people who would have it spared for any number of reasons. But I'm bothered by the fact that we don't get any recon work on this."

"We'll check it out before we plant the firecrackers," Rude said. "But I'm not wild about how the explosives work. I don't like timers, I like remotes. These bombs are small, too. I'm not sure they're up to the job."

Elena sighed. "Well, you know, if the bombs don't do their job, that's not our fault. At least they'll do some damage; then if they don't do the entire lab, at least people will know it's there. We'll check it out first, to be sure. And we'll use some materia defensively."

Reno turned over in his bunk. The others didn't seem to have anything further to add.

He knew he wasn't the only one who wanted to get it over with.

The next day, Rude found himself grimly thinking that Reno had been right to be worried. The mission had gone perfectly. Bradburn had given them their gil up front, and while Rude didn't necessarily like carrying around thirty thousand gil on his person during a mission, he also didn't think that anyone would be in a position to take it away from him.

Once they'd been dropped off at the site, they had gone directly from the back of the van and up to the door, which was a nondescript, metal door that seemed to lead to a small storage building. The rest of the lab was underground, invisible to passers-by. Rude couldn't see the other side of the small room with the door, and there wasn't much time to be standing around trying to get a better look at it.

The air was cold, but the ground was damp and there was no snow on it. Reno had shorted the cameras immediately with his ElectroMag rod, and they'd slipped in. The first thing they'd seen upon entering was the old ShinRa logo, proud as anything, right on the inside of the door.

"Damn," Rude said, "they're never gonna die. Goddamn ShinRa."

"And look at this," Elena said. She pointed to the small symbol under the logo which depicted a bright green DNA double helix superimposed over the form of a sexless human body. Stretching out behind it were multiple outlines of the same body, smaller and smaller, until they faded away.

"That image was on a lot of Hojo's folders," Reno said.

"They're continuing his work," Elena said in a tight voice. "How could they? After the mess they made the first time!"

The three of them stood staring at the icon until Elena said, "Let's start this thing and get it over with."

The crawl through the ducts was tedious, but they'd made excellent time. Reno had made one unscheduled stop to stare up into the bathroom one last time after planting the bomb, to see if any women had come in. By the time they reached the end of the facility, where the duct went straight up, they had about 30 minutes to spare.

Elena shot the silent grappling hook to the top of the duct and the three of them climbed to the top. Surprisingly, Rude didn't feel out of breath when he reached the top. He thought he might, since he hadn't done such a physical mission in a long time, and he occasionally smoked. When they'd joined the Turks they'd been told that smoking was prohibited, since it would interfere with their cardiovascular performance and they'd stand less of a chance of completing such physical missions. Or fighting, or even running away, for that matter. Drinking, yes, hell yes, they were allowed to drink when they were off duty. As long as it didn't affect their performance on the job and they never showed up drunk or hung over.

Elena was peering through the grating of the air duct above them as she dangled from the grappling hook. Reno, hanging right beneath her, tickled her leg, and she kicked him squarely in the head. Rude rolled his eyes.

Elena let her hand drop and held up three fingers, indicating to both of them that she saw three people walking around above them. Reno nodded and flicked on the EMr with the hand that was not holding onto the grappling line. Rude watched him twirl it expertly in his hand as it whirred to life. Rude knew the fidgeting meant that Reno was nervous. Suddenly Reno looked down at the EMr and frowned.

Rude tilted his head in silent question. Reno shook his head, dismissing it.

Rude felt that dismissing worries, however vague, was a bad idea.

Elena quickly cast Sleep on the people above them once they got close enough to her, pushed the grating aside, and climbed out. Reno and Rude followed her directly.

"We have time to look around," Reno whispered, as Rude peered around the corner the hallway that intersected where they'd come up.

"Seems to be the end of the building just like they said it'd be," Rude commented. "Should be more personnel and security cameras right before the exit. It won't be hard to find the way out."

"Let's see what they're up to before we go," Reno suggested. "I still have a funny feeling that there's..." He was interrupted by a squeal of feedback from the EMr. "Jesus!" he muttered, exasperated, as he shut it off and then flicked it back on again.

"Problem, Reno?" Elena asked as she edged down the hallway across from the one Rude was guarding. There were a few sealed doors down that hallway.

"Yeah," he said. "My rod's acting up."

"You wanna be alone?" Rude said. He knew that Reno had set up for the pun, but he took the bait anyway in the spirit of things. He saw Elena roll her eyes.

"Maybe later," Reno said. "Let's see what else might be going on here. We have twenty minutes to get out."

They edged down the hallway and came to a stop in front of one of the sealed doors. Rude unholstered his gun with the silencer on it and aimed it at the lock, angling it so the ricochet wouldn't hit any of them. With that, he shot a small hole in the door where the lock was and swung it open.

"Stop right there!" called deep voice said from down the corridor. Elena turned quickly, cast Sleep, and missed.

The man fired his own gun before they'd gotten a clear look at him, and the bullet grazed Reno's shoulder, barely making a hole in the arm of his suit. He flinched back against the wall and Rude calmly trained his own gun at the man's head.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second when he saw that he was taking aim at himself. He registered the empty look and blank eyes of the clone. Then he pulled the trigger.

Elena stood with her mouth open, blinking slowly as she watchedthe bodysink to the floor. Reno fell back against the wall, one hand over his heart.

There was no time for hysterics, and Rude was keenly aware of the need to be practical, above all. He turned to Reno. "How's your arm?" he asked.

"What arm?" Reno whispered, still staring at the fallen clone.

"The one attached to your shoulder, dumbass."

"Uh...don't worry about it," he said, absently dusting off the place where he'd nearly been shot as he walked briskly to the dead body. Rude watched him silently as he knelt beside it. "You just killed yourself, man," he said, looking up at Rude.

Rude shrugged. "That's not me. Just a clone."

The clone seemed to be a younger version of himself, from what he could see. It was a version of him at about eighteen years old, when he had first joined ShinRa, twenty or so years ago. But then, he wasn't looking all too closely.

"This is bad," Elena finally spoke up.

"Don't worry about it," Rude said. He knew what was him and what wasn't. What he had killed was a mass of DNA that had little to do with him otherwise.

"No, it's bad," Elena said. "Rude, they cloned the Turks. Probably all of us."

Reno paled as he turned his head sharply to her. Then he tried to force a smile. "I'll bet mine scores a lot," he said, and forced a laugh. He ran his hand across his face tiredly.

"They cloned Sephiroth, they could have cloned anyone. Rufus, his father, even Hojo. Jesus, what if they're already out there, like Sephiroth is?"

Rude was halfway listening as he looked into the room that lay behind the door he'd just opened. It was a room full of filing cabinets, with some desks and a few computers. On the far side of the room was another open door, with stairs that lead to a lower floor. Rude could hear a constant humming, along with an occasional faint liquidy sound coming from beyond the door. He nodded for the others to follow him as he went inside. Reno dragged the body of the clone along, and Rude tried not to look as he put it behind a filing cabinet in the corner. It didn't exactly bother him that he had killed his clone, but it was eerie seeing the care that Reno took to be gentle with the body, as if it was really him. He tried not to think about it. If he had to eventually, he'd store it away for future pondering. But now was not the time. Now was an important, dangerous, and suddenly unpredictable mission.

"This is really sucking hard, you know," Reno was whispering behind him as they went down the stairs. "This mission is beginning to suck a lot of ass. I knew it seemed too cool. I knew something had to start to suck really badly soon. And now it does. It totally sucks."

"Shut up, Reno!" Elena whispered.

"I'm just saying," Reno went on. "This is starting to suck."

"I know, shut up about it!" she snapped.

Reno's EMr began to make a loud whirring noise. Rude turned quickly. "Turn that thing off. Either that thing or your babbling mouth is gonna get us caught."

Reno shrugged helplessly and switched it off. It made a faint whistling sound as it died down. Reno twirled it once and put it in the side holster dangling from his belt.

Rude was the first one down the steps, and the first thing he noticed was that the stairs were old and wooden. The room they'd just come from, and indeed the corridors, had looked like a spotless, polished laboratory. Upon entering the basement, Rude was stunned to note that there was nothing spotless and nothing polished about this part of the lab. In fact, at first he wasn't even sure if he was seeing correctly, but Elena's sharp intake of breath behind him confirmed what he'd seen.

It was a large room, with over a hundred steel tables. On the tables, strapped down, lay naked bodies. Rude wasn't sure if they were alive or dead. He assumed they must be alive, even though none of them moved, as they were all connected to intravenous Mako drips. Not just one each, either: there was a needle in each arm, in each leg, and one Mako drip catheterized directly into the chest. Five needles in all per body. That was, in Rude's estimation, a shitload of Mako, give or take a pint.

Their arms were spread out to their sides. There was blood on the floor, on most of the bodies, and the entire room stank of filth and chemicals. The steady Mako drip made a soft, liquidy noise in the bags. The lights in the lab were turned off, but the glowing Mako made up for it in hazy green light.

"Holy shit," Reno whispered.

Rude wanted to disagree. This was possibly the unholiest shit he'd ever seen, this side of the whole Sephiroth / Jenova / Meteor thing he'd witnessed.

"Are they alive?" Reno whispered, as Elena silently walked up to one of them.

"Must be," Rude said. "Waste of Mako otherwise."

"You're right," Elena said. "They're breathing. They're sleeping. This is disgusting. I hope these bombs take down the entire facility and everyone in it."

Reno walked up beside Elena. "Let's go," he said quietly. "Mission's over. This is not cool. We need to get the hell out."

"You're right," she said, suddenly businesslike again. "Rude, check the..." She stopped suddenly, and uttered a strangled cry.

Rude followed her gaze to one of the tables. A young man lay strapped to it, his eyes closed, arms splayed like those of the rest of the clones. He looked no more than eighteen years old, though chronologically he might have only been in existence for half of those years. He had fair skin and black hair. Rude knew that if his eyes were to open, underneath the green Mako sheen, they would be as black as his hair.

"Tseng!" Elena whispered, and began to run to the body.

Reno's eyes widened as he realized what was going on. He caught Elena by the arm and pulled her back.

Rude slowly walked to the body as Reno held Elena back; he could hear her breath coming in muffled gasps as she tried to twist away from Reno.

"It's not Tseng," he heard Reno say. Reno sounded shaken, as if he wasn't entirely sure himself. "It wasn't Rude before, and this isn't Tseng. Please don't let it be Tseng," he added, more to himself than anyone else.

Rude looked down at the body. Sure as hell looked like Tseng, yet he somehow knew it wasn't. _Or isn't it?_ he asked himself. _Why not? Sephiroth came back. Why not Tseng? What if Tseng died, and now is really in this body and we blow the hell out of this place, with him in it?_ He had to know for sure.

He pried open one of the eyes. All he could see was the white of the eye and a light green half circle near the top. The body twitched a little. Rude slapped him across the face and heard Elena cry out softly over Reno's shushing noises.

The body's eyes snapped open and stared blankly at Rude. "Tseng," he whispered almost inaudibly, "you in there, man?"

The black-green hazed eyes looked him over with no hint of recognition. Not only lack of recognition, but no sense of reason or intellect. Tseng might have made a few foolish choices about a few things concerning his life and his work, but he'd always been intelligent. It shone in his eyes. It was what Rude remembered best. There was a chance, he thought, that this body had been so sensory deprived that it hadn't had a chance to develop Tseng's intellect and personality, but something told him this was not the case. It sounded strange to admit to himself, but he couldn't actually _feel_ Tseng anywhere nearby, and that made all the difference in the world to him. Rude knew for certain that Tseng was not in this body. His soul, or whatever the hell anyone wanted to call it, was elsewhere.

He turned back to see Elena hiding her face in Reno's jacket while Reno almost absently stroked her back. He was looking at Rude, and tilted his head slightly, questioning him with his eyes. He looked pale and nervous. Rude shook his head. Reno sighed with relief.

"Rude checked it out, Elena," Reno said softly. "It's definitely not Tseng. Come on. We'd know if it was him." He held her by the arms and pushed her away from him. "Now pull yourself together," he said. "This mission sucks, but it's still a mission and we have to get out. You're the leader of the Turks; lead us out of here."

Elena wiped her eyes and straightened her back. "You're right," she said. "I'm sorry. I let my emotions get in the way again."

"Don't apologize, let's just go. We've seen enough and this place is gonna..." He stopped mid sentence and turned his head quickly toward the stairs.

"Who's there?" said a man's voice, from the top of the stairs.

All three Turks silently stepped back and pressed themselves against the wall. Rude and Elena took out their guns, and Reno unholstered his EMr. He didn't turn it on right away; Rude guessed he was waiting until the last second so the strange noises it had been making wouldn't give them away.

They all heard the man descend the stairs, and a second later he came into view: a tall, thin man who must have been a scientist or a technician, in a crisp, white lab coat.

Reno nodded at Rude. Rude stepped away form the wall. "Only us Turks," he said, startling the man enough that he faltered for a second. Reno turned the EMr on quickly and a bolt of bright blue electricity shot out of it, hitting the man in the center of his chest. The man hit the wall, slid down, and fell on his side on the floor. The EMr immediately thereafter began to squawk and make a high pitched whining sound.

Rude and Elena both flinched, and Reno shut it off quickly.

"What's wrong with that thing?" Rude asked him, as they walked over to the man lying on the floor. The way he was twitching reminded Rude of the way he and Elena had found Reno a few nights ago.

Reno was about to answer, but was momentarily distracted when he saw the face of the man on the floor. Rude saw a moment of surprise on Reno's face, which quickly turned into a small, nasty grin. "Heh," he laughed softly. "Been waiting a long time to do that," he said, and kicked the body.

"Who is it?" Elena asked.

"Just a little prick with a needle."

"How are you gonna use that thing if we need to, Reno?" Rude asked, ignoring his statement about the technician. If it was important, Reno would tell him later.

"I don't know," Reno whispered, as they stepped slowly up the stairs, "but it's really weird. It looks fine and it's all charged up but there must be something in the magnetics around..." He stopped mid sentence once more, and Rude was startled to notice that he staggered back momentarily and caught his breath.

"What?" Rude asked, as they reached the top of the steps. He looked around both corners to make sure no one had heard the awful noise and had come to find out what it was. He glanced at his watch. Ten minutes to get out.

"Nothing," Reno said. "I guess I just thought...but there has to be hundreds of places like that."

"Like what?" Elena asked.

"With messed up polarities, although I can only remember it happening in one specific place. Just weird magnetics, lots of concrete and metal and Mako, was my guess, Lifestream bubbling up... all concentrated in one place."

Rude and Elena kept walking, and checked down the next corridor. Rude spotted the last security office and the door they needed to escape from.

Reno had stopped walking.

"Come _on_," Elena whispered.

Reno shook his head as if to clear it, and began walking again. Then he stopped again.

Rude turned on him suddenly. "What is it, Reno?" he asked. "Can we figure it out later?"

Elena was crawling down the corridor, stopping once to check her weapon and down an Ether as she edged over to the security office.

"It's just that," Reno said, "well, when we were on the submarine and in the van, we didn't change direction once, right?"

"I don't know, I slept most of the way," Rude answered hastily. Just what the hell was Reno getting at? He saw Elena cast Stop on the people in the office, and he took Reno's arm and pulled him along.

"Well it's just that we were heading Northeast the whole way," Reno said. "And since the air duct was a straight line from one end to the other, we'd still be going Northeast. If we were, you know. Going Northeast. We never saw the sonar watch station on the sub."

"Yeah, so?" Rude was beginning to tune out Reno's babble. It seemed to him that whatever kind of messed up frequencies his EMr was getting, they were bouncing off Reno's dim red head as well. He often thought that Reno was far too attached to his weapon and had some bizarre connection with it.

"It just seems that we never really checked our direction and we've been underground for a few hours, so we wouldn't know if we had been going in the other direction, because, you know, there's only one place in the world I've ever had this problem," Reno went on. "After Meteor and all."

Rude frowned at him. The babbling was familiar to him, and the sound of it settled cold in his stomach. Reno had developed the annoying quirk of speed-talking after Sector Seven, whenever anyone mentioned anything in connection to its destruction.

Elena had slipped into the security office and found the mechanism that opened the door from inside.

"And I'm just thinking that-that if we were actually going Southwest as opposed to Northeast," Reno went on, "which is easy to mix up when you can't see the sun or anything, and you know I can't use a compass if I have the EMr because it messes it up the, you know... Then we'd definitely be exactly underneath the one place where I've ever had this problem."

Elena had looked out the door to make sure their escape helicopter was where it was supposed to be. Rude had been paying more attention to Elena's actions than to Reno's increasingly panicked rambling until he saw Elena turn and look back at them. Her face betrayed her own panic, and suddenly it all came together in Rude's mind.

He closed his eyes and waited for the worst.

"We'd be right under Midgar," Reno said. There was an odd calm to his voice. "And we are, aren't we?" he said after a long pause. "Aren't we, Elena? Aren't we right under Midgar?"

Reno seemed inclined to just stare blankly at the space above Elena's head. Rude grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door.

"No!" Reno said, pulling back.

"Reno, LET'S GO!" Elena shouted. There was no use in being quiet now. Rude looked at his watch. They had six minutes.

"No," Reno said. "You go on, I'll catch you up."

Rude shook his head slowly. There was absolutely no way, not in this world or in any world, that he was going to let Reno do what Reno obviously thought he was going to do. "You can't defuse them, Reno, there's no way to do it. I looked all three of them over and there's no way."

"There's always a way!" Reno said, as Rude advanced upon him. "Come on, man. Don't stop me."

"I don't wanna fight with you about this, Reno," Rude said.

"Let's go!" Elena shouted. "Reno, that's an order!"

"To hell with orders! You wanna stop me, you're gonna have to fight me! Otherwise just let me do this by myself. Either I go in there with a chance of stopping this thing or we all stand here and fight about it till it blows us all to hell, YOUR choice!"

"Reno goddamnit!" Rude bellowed. Even Elena flinched. Few people had ever heard him yell. He knew it was intimidating. "They're small bombs; they'll cause a tremor up there!"

Reno switched on his EMr and stared back at Rude, breathing heavily. "That's bullshit," he said. "This place is going to cave in, and it'll take..."

"We've got five minutes, Reno, that's all we've got left! You're gonna defuse three bombs in five minutes when it took you hours to crawl through that thing? You stupid all of a sudden?"

"I have to try. At least the last one." Reno dodged out of the way as Rude tried to cast Sleep on him and missed.

He turned to run, but Elena was faster, and cast Sleep successfully.

Rude grabbed Reno as he fell. "Elena, go!" he shouted. He threw his arm around Reno's waist and dragged him along easily.

Elena was out the door first and Rude followed, still holding Reno up, just as the Stop spell that Elena had cast on the security personnel wore off. The people left behind in the lab began to shout about intruders, and one of them punched the alarm, but it was too late. Rude cast Sleep on them too, so they wouldn't be able to escape with information, and then he ran, following Elena and dragging Reno, to the helicopter.

It seemed to take them forever to get to the chopper, and Rude considered how many precious minutes they had lost between seeing the clones and dealing with Reno's sudden impracticality.

Elena climbed into the chopper and started it, while Rude carelessly threw Reno into it and climbed in behind both of them.

Elena glanced back furiously at the open door they'd just come out of. Then she glanced up at the blades of the chopper, which weren't moving nearly fast enough to make her feel at ease. "We're not gonna make it," she muttered.

"Yeah we are." Rude said. "We'll be fine." Though in truth, he wasn't entirely sure, due to the fact that his suddenly very unreasonable friend had held them all up. He wanted to smack Reno right in the mouth for being such an idiot. He understood what Reno had gone through with Midgar in the past, but it was insanely useless of him to hang around stupidly trying to undo it this time.

The chopper began to hover above the ground, and Elena steered it away from the door they'd come out of. They were moving-too slowly, Rude thought-over Midgar.

One minute.

"Crap!" Elena yelled, as the chopper wobbled crazily for a moment.

The chopper gained both distance and height over Midgar, but not quickly enough. Rude heard the rumble of the first bomb going off, followed almost immediately by the second. A few seconds later, he heard the third-the delay between the second and third doubtless caused by Reno's fascination with trying to see if there had been women in the bathroom. But that was no big deal, a lapse between the timers; it was almost standard. It was rare, in fact, to get them to go off that close together.

It would have been perfect, if a section of Midgar hadn't been swaying beneath them.

With a sudden gust of searingly hot air, as the ground beneath Midgar rumbled and sent a wave of heat spewing up, the chopper rocked dangerously. Elena shrieked and Rude held on for sweet life.

"I'm losing it!" Elena said. "Rude! There's no fuel in this thing, we're running on vapors! What the _hell!_ I have to bring it down somewhere."

"Then bring it!" Rude said. If they were going down anyway, better to be closer to the ground where they had a chance of surviving the impact and escaping the possible explosion of the aircraft. Who the hell would leave them a chopper with no fuel in it? Only someone who didn't want them to escape.

A complete, well thought-out setup, and they had gone for it. He wondered who would have the power to pull off such a set-up, but decided that he would think of that after surviving the rest of the day.

Some of the taller buildings in Midgar were shaking madly. Rude doubted any buildings in the vicinity would have windows left in them. There would surely be deaths. He could see the outer wall of the city not too far off in front of them. Elena had gained enough speed to almost reach the city limits.

"I'm gonna try to make it out!" she hollered to Rude above the noise of the falling city. "Make sure Reno doesn't get hurt!"

Rude braced himself against the back of the chopper and braced Reno with his free hand as the chopper sailed, wobbling all the way, over the wall of Midgar.

The ground was coming up quickly, too quickly for it to be anything other than a devastating landing. And to make matters worse, the chopper was pointing dangerously downward, almost in a nosedive. Elena fought madly to right it, and just before impact, she did.

It skidded hard to the ground and almost spun out, right outside of Midgar. Elena was kicking at the door before the chopper even stopped moving, and she finally wedged it open.

"Come on!" she ordered, as she jumped out of the aircraft. She waited by the door, her arms held out in front of her, and Rude realized she wanted him to get Reno out first. He handled Reno carelessly, as there was no other way to do it, and Elena caught him as he fell, and struggled to hold him up. As soon as Rude was out, Reno opened his eyes.

"The hell?" he asked.

Elena simply grabbed his arm and started pulling him along as Rude ran beside them.

Another blast of hot air sent them all sailing above the ground as the chopper blew up behind them.

_No fuel...explosion...detonated chopper. Reno was right about one thing,_ Rude thought, right before losing consciousness. _This mission sucked._


	6. chapter six

_Self indulgent author's note: _

_  
Scarlet makes an appearance in this chapter. I was always of the mind that she and Heidegger lived at the end of the game. I realize that she seems harsh and that she also seems trashy in this chapter, but there is more of her to come later on. For now, please trust me, if you can, with her characterization, because I do make an effort to clear up her mystery and round her out a few chapters down. (I know it's easy to say "please trust me with these established characters, trust that I won't make them unrecognizable!" and hard for the reader to actually trust that. It's one of the challenges of fanfiction, isn't it? Because these characters are yours to read more than they are mine to write. Same goes, I think, with every reader and writer of fanfic. But I digress.) _

Rated R, I think, for the EFFWORD! ;D And for sexual innuendo.

A word on the name I saddled Reno with: Way back when I started writing this (over four years ago, bear in mind,) I had noticed a trend in Turks fanfiction to give Reno a very short last name, or to make Reno his last name and give him a very short first name. I don't know why, but I found the idea of Reno having about a billion names, none of which were actually "Reno", amusing enough to include it in this fic. Consider it the self-indulgent quirk of a fanfic writer, kick me in the shin for it, and read on. ;)

**_R_**eno's head hurt, and damnit, it hurt bad. Aside from that, he was, for some reason, frigging uncomfortable and his hands were numb. God almighty, what in the bowels of the Planet had happened to him this time?

He was a Turk, that was certain. One who no longer worked for ShinRa. Tseng was dead.

No, but... he had seen Tseng, recently.

No. Tseng was dead. Clones. The mission.

Reno groaned. The mission.

Midgar.

He became aware of someone's hands on both of his knees. What the hell was this? Usually a good sign in itself but...all evidence to the contrary, he had a feeling that he wasn't going to like whatever the hands did next. Whoa! Whoever it was had just pulled his legs apart, very roughly, thank you very much. What the hell were they doing, making a goddamned wish?

"A very good morning to you, Copper," a woman said.

"Aww, fuck me dead," Reno muttered, letting his head fall back. That was disorienting. If he was letting his head fall back he wouldn't be lying down, and he'd thought he was. But his perception of space righted itself, and he realized that was upright. At least his head was. The feeling of finding that his position in space was not what he'd thought it was made him want to spew. That, and the headache. It felt like a wicked concussion.

And worst of all, Scarlet seemed to be feeling up his legs. It had to be Scarlet. Who else had ever dared to call him "Copper?"

What the hell was Scarlet doing in his life all of a sudden? In a moment of clarity, Reno realized that he didn't exactly care. He was simply dismayed to know she was there. He was in the deepest circle of hell for his crimes, and being with her was his eternal torment.

"Go away," he muttered.

"Oh, Copper," she said silkily, "you don't mean that."

"Ugh," he groaned again, as he realized that she wasn't copping a feel as he'd thought, but tying or strapping his legs securely to something. What the hell kind of sick game was the witch playing this time around? He opened his bleary eyes and saw that her shiny blond head was too close to being between his legs, which was exactly where he least liked her shiny blond head to be in this day and age. And she was strapping him into a chair.

"Get off me!" he said, and made a noise of disgust. He tried to kick her away, but both his legs were fastened securely to the chair, as were both of his arms.

"Look around, Copper," she said, "I think I patched it up very nicely."

He had no idea what she was talking about. He needed to get his bearings and be aware of his surroundings, as she was going to play head games with him and make him guess what was going on. She existed to give him a worse headache.

Her cool blue eyes finally looked up at him. She smiled sweetly. "You look terrible," she cooed.

"Time hasn't exactly been kind to you either, Scarlet," he said. And he meant it too. From what he could see, she had aged considerably, though he knew she wasn't _that_ much older than he was. Her fine features had begun to sag just a little, and it made her eyes look smaller. No, Reno thought, as he looked at her longer: It wasn't time that had taken its toll on her. _She_ had taken her toll on her own looks. She still had delicate features, but her attitude had twisted them into something unattractive. Reno supposed, though, that it took knowing her to see it. Probably anyone else would think she was a real dish.

"Oh, Reno," she said, and tsked at him, shaking her head. "You still don't know where you are, do you?"

"I guess I was too dismayed by the fact that you were here with me to give it much thought," he retorted.

"Well then, Copper," she said, standing up and smoothing her dress, "open your eyes and look around."

Reno stared at her through half lidded, tired eyes for a full moment, before truly opening his eyes and taking in his surroundings.

"That's right," she whispered softly, "open up those big, poison - bright eyes, you miserable, abject failure."

Reno ignored her words as he glanced briefly around the cell. "Nice," he said. "The gas chamber. So I assume we're in Junon. So are you going to kill me, or are you going to just stand there and vamp at me all day?"

"Don't you want to know why you're here?" she asked in mock disappointment.

"Not particularly. If you're going to pull the switch and kill me, it doesn't make too much of a difference, now does it?"

"You know," she said casually, walking around the room and surveying the walls absently, "you were a pretty good Turk at one time. Until you went all noble. Then you became weak."

"Look, whatever, Scarlet. Are you going to keep wasting time and annoying me? Or are you just going to pull that stupid switch so that at least I don't have to listen to your moronic babbling all goddamn day?"

"You're no fun," she said, and walked back over to him. She straddled his legs and sat down across his lap. "And I'm not going to personally pull the lever, anyway."

Reno looked away from her. "Get your nasty thighs off me," he said through gritted teeth.

"You didn't used to mind."

_Ahh,_ Reno thought, _this is the part where I say, "That's ancient history," and she makes some comment about history repeating itself..._

"Bite me," Reno said. What the hell. Either he was going to find a way out of this or he was going to die, and in either case, he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of letting her think she'd gotten to him.

"I'm planning on doing a lot worse than biting you, Reno. They say that the villain always makes the mistake of explaining too much before killing their victims, but since you're obviously the villain here, I feel safe in explaining a few things to you." She slid off of his legs and began to circle the chair smoothly.

"I'm the villain?" Reno asked, trying not to follow her with his eyes. "How do you figure that one?"

"Kya haha... ha... haha... ha..." The familiar sound of her laughter made Reno want to puke all over her silky dress. "Because destroying Midgar once wasn't enough for you."

"Now wait a minute, Scarlet," Reno said, finally looking at her.

"Oh, can it," she said. "You're such an idiot, Reno. I know that you didn't know it was Midgar, you flakey whore. But I knew you'd never do it if you knew. Sure, you were hot for some gil and some excitement, but you would've thought yourself too noble to blow that lab if it was under a city, especially poor beaten up Midgar, right? I'll bet you even asked if there were any civilians, didn't you? And Reeve... Kya hahaha! Naive Reeve! I love it. I could stand here and try to make you think that Reeve was in on it as well, but I'd rather that you knew the truth, because it's so much funnier. Reeve was just too dense to realize that he was being set up, too.

"Don't just sit there all slackjawed, Reno. Don't you want to know why I sent you...I'm sorry, why 'Hunters' sent you Turks on this mission?"

Reno was curious, but he didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that. And when she mentioned the other Turks, he wondered where they were. Had she caught them? How long had he been unconscious, anyway?

"Well, I'll tell you, and it really is a good reason, too. As I'm sure you noticed, there really was a cloning facility under there. Some of the scientists from there came running to me when things got out of hand down there. They got scared and they tattled. Why did I care? I'll tell you why: Because they have all of our DNA. They can clone me, you...Most importantly they could clone old man ShinRa."

"They could also clone Rufus," Reno shot back to her. Rufus had always seemed to be her one soft spot. Well, perhaps not soft, just slightly less unbelievably cruel.

"Sure they could, but there was nothing that could make it seem worth it to me. I could either have Heidegger and all his men and women, who are easily controlled...by me," she smiled seductively and secretly, "and I can get things done the way I want to, or I could have silly old Rufus back, who liked the pretty toys I made. So tell me, Reno of the Turks," she said, and leaned down with both her hands on his knees, "which do you expect I would choose?"

Reno looked her in the eyes, trying to convey the cool disdain that he was always so good at. "You're such a dirty old slut," he said.

_SMACK!_ her hand came down across his face with all the force she could muster.

"Go to hell, Scarlet."

_SMACK!_

He looked at her with hate in his eyes, ignoring the blood in his mouth.

_SMACK!_

"You're too old for this, Scarlet."

_SMACK!_

"Scarlet,"

_SMACK!_

"You're enjoying this way too much."

She raised her hand again, but didn't slap him this time. "Reno," she said, with false tenderness, "you're one of those useless men who thinks I'm a slut just because I like sex."

"That's not true," he answered honestly. "You don't like it. You just need it because you're such an empty person. You use it. And other people's pain makes you feel so good, doesn't it?"

"Then why did you sleep with me, huh?" she asked in a cheerful, victorious tone, and sat on his lap again.

Reno turned his head away; the scent of her perfume was sweet and cloying. "Because training got boring and you were there. The older woman kinda thing."

_SMACK!_

The word "old," Reno realized, seemed to be the one that set her off. But he had faced a lot worse than a few open-handed slaps, and he was on a verbal roll and enjoying it. "Then I realized that you're just one of those people who was tired of sex before you were even old enough to start having it. Then you got boring, so I left you."

He waited for her to slap him again. She didn't.

"That's okay, Reno," she said soothingly. "You never really did much for me either. You were a stupid, clumsy, arrogant kid. In fact, you still are. Rude was a lot better."

Reno actually found himself laughing. It was a low blow, but he didn't mind. Rude was better than him at a lot of things.

"Not a surprise, huh?" she asked.

Reno laughed harder. "No, I guess not," he said, not sure if his eyes were watering from his laughter, or from her slapping him silly.

"Kya haha haha!" Scarlet laughed with him.

"So," Reno said, still halfway laughing and slightly giddy, "basically you didn't want clones of ShinRa to take over this weird power you think you have, you couldn't blow the facility yourself, no pun intended since I'm sure in that respect you could..."

He was surprised to see that she almost laughed at that.

"And you got the desperate Turks to do it for you. And now you're framing me for destroying Midgar."

"Maybe you're not entirely stupid," Scarlet said. "Of course, I need for people to witness your execution, you know." She slid her fingers over his face, and very gently ran her fingernail down the scar on his left cheek, then the one on the right. "I can't televise it live since it's such short notice. You really know how to make an exit, you know. But there is a small crew out there waiting to tape it, once I remove the shield over that window. You know, Copper, I have to say that I'm almost sorry to see you go. Almost. Not entirely. Kya haha..."

"What makes you think the gas chamber will work this time?"

"When that stuck up little Lockhart slut escaped, it was because the guard had dropped the key. She probably gave him a quick peek down her shirt to get him to do that. There's no guard in here that's going to drop a key for you, Copper."

"Well," Reno sighed, "since that's the way it has to be..."

She slid off of his lap again, then reached down to stroke his face once more. Reno tilted his head toward her hand as if he was going to lean into the caress, and when her hand reached his jaw, he turned his head quickly and sank his teeth into the fleshy part of her hand, below the thumb.

Scarlet, who had apparently forgotten what it meant to corner this particular Turk and then let your guard down, wailed. There was no other word for it.

Reno bit down harder, trying not to gag on the blood that was seeping between his teeth. He held on fiercely.

With her free hand, she grabbed his hair and attempted to pull him away. The result was that his teeth tore into her hand and ripped the skin back a little, and she screamed again.

He gave a little tug and the color drained out of her face, leaving two red blotches on her cheeks where her makeup was. She whimpered. "Let go."

Reno shook his head with a sort of growl that meant, "uh uh."

Her eyes darted around the room furiously, and Reno knew then that she was unarmed. If she'd had a weapon, she would have used it. He followed her eyes until she looked into his once more. He twisted his right hand in the strap until his palm was facing up, and gestured with his fingers that he wanted her to drop something into it. He wanted the key.

With her free hand, she began to dig in her pocket for it. Unfortunately, the chamber had never been soundproof, and one of her guards came running in. He put a pistol to Reno's head.

Reno thought about it for a split second. The gas chamber gave him a slight chance of escape, perhaps only one percent. But a bullet in his brain was instant death.

He let go, and was momentarily sickened by the feeling of his teeth sliding out of her hand.

The guard drew back the gun and prepared to pistol whip him.

"Don't!" Scarlet screamed.

The guard stopped with his hand in the air. "Ma'am?"

"I want him to be awake," she hissed in a hoarse voice. "I have a surprise for him that he's going to love. Well what are you waiting for! Cast Cure!"

The guard looked startled that he hadn't thought of it right away, and cast Cure on her, partially healing her hand. Reno could still see the bloody holes in her hand where his teeth had been.

"You're a savage," she hissed at Reno.

"What does that make you?" he asked her, spitting blood as he spoke.

"Me! There's nothing savage about my fine creations! Two words for you, Reno: Sister Ray! Proud Clod! Those exquisite bombs that you and Rude personally set under Midgar! Those were _beautiful._ Those were art. You didn't think that those delicate, gorgeous little things could destroy so much, did you?"

"That's more than two words."

Scarlet trembled for a moment, then she rounded on her guard. "GET OUT!" she screamed at him. "Open that screen! I want Reno to see who showed up for his execution. We're not waiting for the others, we're doing it right now! The other two Turks can come and see him after he's dead."

The guard pushed a green button by the door and the metallic screening over the heavily layered glass slid upwards. Reno looked out into the observation room and saw only three or four people, one of whom was holding a video camera.

Scarlet had mentioned the two other Turks. Reno was certain that Rude and Elena were still alive.

"ROLL TAPE!" Scarlet barked, and the camera man nervously began to record.

Scarlet got her breathing under control and clasped her hands behind her back to hide the blood that was still on her hands. Then she stepped in front of the camera.

"You are about to witness," she said, "the execution of the man who is responsible for the destruction of not only a large portion of NeoMidgar, but of Sector Seven of the original Midgar as well. As you all are aware, two days ago a section of NeoMidgar was brought to its knees by a group of terrorists formerly known as the Turks of ShinRa. Many people died in the explosions, which seemed at first to be naturally occurring earthquakes. And many of those who weren't destroyed by the blasts were poisoned by the Mako that lay beneath the surface."

Reno listened to all of this, his insides turning over. He knew that part was true, and there was no way around that truth. He thought briefly of the cat who'd come to his window every night, and suddenly had visions of Scarlet being ripped to bits by wild beasts. The image soothed him. He sighed and let his head fall back as he concentrated on that lovely vision.

"I'd like to warn the viewers that due to the graphic nature of this execution, discretion is advised." She took a moment to pretend to check her emotions. "We'll now proceed with the execution of Delreno Damek Sarrino Edan Callaghan, better known as Reno of the Turks." She turned away from the camera and snickered at him.

Reno jerked his head in her direction and stared at her, stunned. He could barely even remember his entire name, and he wondered how she could. And for that matter, how she had found out in the first place, since supposedly his files were gone anyway.

Reno wasn't mindful of the camera that was on him or the people who were watching. He had to find a way out, and if they wanted to stop him, they'd have to come in and do it. The protective metal wristbands in which he'd kept defensive materia were gone; they'd made sure he couldn't cast Cure or any restorative materia on himself, of course. And obviously his weapons were gone; he remained in his wrinkled navy pants and wrinkled white shirt.

Scarlet had secured him very tightly in the chair. What the hell, she was great at securing people to things.

"The executioner has arrived," he heard Scarlet say, trying to control her glee so the viewers wouldn't pick it up. "Let's begin."

Reno glanced at the man who had come to stand by the switch that meant his death. Then he glanced again. Then he stared, dumbfounded.

There had been terribly few people in Reno's life that he had idolized. Perhaps his mother had been one of them. He had loved people, and even been in love with a girlfriend or two. He certainly loved Rude, probably his best friend ever; he had come to love Elena, with her dumb little quirkiness, and he even got a kick out of Reeve, though he found it difficult to take him seriously (in all likelihood because Reeve never seemed to take himself seriously.) Maybe he had slightly idolized a girlfriend at some point as well, but never to the extent that he'd idolized the man who stood in front of the lever that would open the grating below his chair and send quick acting nerve gas misting all around him.

He was the one person whom Reno had willingly and sincerely acknowledged as his superior in every aspect of life.

The joy he felt at seeing him once more was overridden by the fact that the man's hand was poised on the lever, and he didn't seem to recognize him.

"Tseng," he said, softly and weakly at first, tears forming in his eyes. "Tseng!" He leaned forward against the restraints, trying to catch the man's attention.

It was Tseng. Not a young clone, not even a clone who had aged to the point where Tseng would have been. Even with the vacantly malicious, predatory look in his glazed greenish black eyes, it was Tseng through and through. Reno could feel it as surely as he could feel his own pulse. _Not for long, boyo,_ he told himself. _Unless you find a way..._

"Tseng! Tseng, dammit!"

Off camera, Scarlet was laughing.

Tseng finally looked his way. There was a flicker in his eyes that disappeared too quickly.

"Tseng! TSENG!"  
_**-**_

**_E_**lena heard the door to her cell clink open as she lay curled up on the floor. There was a searing road rash burn on her thigh where she'd hit the ground so hard that it had torn her pants to shreds on that side. She was sure her shoulder had been dislocated as well, for she could vaguely remember landing on it as the blast from the chopper threw her a pretty good distance.

Worst of all, the thirty thousand gil was gone. They had set those bombs under NeoMidgar, and they had done so for free. Elena was so angry that she felt her entire head grow hot.

She wondered how Reno and Rude had fared. She'd seen Reno out of the corner of her bloodied eye as they lay on the hard dirt outside of NeoMidgar. He'd been very, very still. And she hadn't seen Rude.

But that was when the other helicopter had landed and taken them away. At first she had been relieved, thinking that help had come. Then, as someone roughly picked her up, she'd heard Scarlet's distant laughter. She knew she hadn't imagined it, and it was the last thing she remembered before waking up in the cell, only hours earlier.

There was one day's worth of uneaten food on a tray. Well, not so much food as watery mush, from what she could see, and a glass of murky looking water.

She saw a pair of black boot-clad legs approaching, but didn't dare look up to see to whom they were attached. At least not yet. She guessed that whoever it was, he was coming in once again to either feed her, question her, or kill her.

"You awake?" said the man's voice.

Elena whimpered. She sobbed. "Broken," she said hoarsely. "My arm, I think...it's broken." She looked up at him, giving him her best wounded look. She had a bit of hope that, if nothing else, her eyes would soften him. They were the only feature in her otherwise plain face that had ever served her well.

The guard had a hard, deeply lined face that betrayed no emotion. Damn. Later, she might let a very small part of herself feel insulted that she wasn't even a woman to this man; but that was, of course, if there was a later. Right now she had to be a Turk, and there was no room for anything else.

"You ain't gonna die, Blondie," he said. "Get up. You're gonna watch an execution in a coupla minutes but Miss Scarlet wants you questioned first."

An execution; it had to be Rude or Reno, she was sure. Who else could it be? She held her hand up shakily, appealing to the guard for help in getting up.

His face was set; he was determined to refuse. Then he came to realize that she was not going to do it on her own, and seemed to decide that the faster he got her out, the better. He held out his hand, and she took it.

There was no time for fancy acrobatic combat skills, and Elena used his own weight as leverage as she pulled herself up, and simultaneously pulled him downward, wedging her knee squarely into his crotch. Tseng had always told her that, should she ever find herself weaponless and in danger, (not that she should _ever_ willingly give up her weapon,) the one thing that might save her was to put any available hard places of her body into any available soft places on her opponent's, with all the force she could muster. If she followed through, it would work every time.

And work it did, as her guard doubled up wordlessly and she pushed him to the floor. She grabbed his weapons. He carried a standard issue pistol like all ShinRa goons had carried (herself included, she gently reminded herself,) and a staff, not unlike the one the Ancient had carried, with materia in it. It had high level Bolt, high level Restore, and a nice little summoning materia that she had never seen before, and which, apparently, hadn't been used. She cast Bolt on him and then rifled under his sleeves for his armor, and took that, too. He had Fire and Ice materia in it. Taking into consideration all of the materia he had, she also took two ethers from his pockets and downed one then and there. Just for good measure, she took all 500 of his gil as well, and stuffed it in the one pocket she had left on her pants.

Down the hall, she saw another ShinRa goon opening another cell- presumably Rude's or Reno's. She didn't have time to waste, and cast Bolt on him as well, before running to the cell.

Rude sat up on the floor, rubbing his head gingerly. He looked to be in better shape than she was.

"Rude!" she said, making him jump. "I think they're going to kill Reno; we have to hurry. Grab that guard's materia and as many supplies as you can get from him, quick as you can."

Rude was already going through the man's pockets before she finished telling him to do so. He slipped the armor under his sleeve and fastened it with a soft click, then took an ether and a high potion. He was about to drink the potion himself, but then offered it to Elena.

She took it gratefully, but didn't drink it just yet. "One more thing, Rude, before we go." She gestured to the other arm, which hung lifelessly at her side. "Can you help?" She had seen Rude impassively set Reno's broken arm once, and he had easily cracked her neck a few times in the past. He had a way with bones.

"Sure," he said, and quickly helped her take her jacket off. "Look away," he said, as he took hold of her arm.

"'Kay," she said, trying to swallow against the tightness in her throat. She knew this was going to hurt, but she also knew that if she screamed, it would alert other guards. She stuffed the sleeve of her jacket into her mouth, and just in time, as she felt him yank hard on her arm, then push against the shoulder with the palm of his other hand. A wave of nausea and dizziness almost knocked her off her feet as the pain flared in her shoulder and she heard the terrible _POP_ of the bone going back into the socket. Rude was casting Cure on her before she even caught her breath.

She thanked him breathlessly and took a sip of the high potion, then decided to save the rest. You never knew what was around the corner. But the Restore felt wonderful, and the throbbing, grinding ache in her shoulder eased up.

Rude took a swig of his ether and she offered him the rest of the high potion. He waved it away. "Just a few bumps and scratches," he said as they left the cell.

They fought four more guards on their way down the dank, dim hall, taking their gil and potions, before they came to the execution observation room.

The first thing Elena saw was Scarlet, trying her damndest to look serious and tragic in front of a camera. Then her eyes were drawn to the struggling figure strapped in the chair behind the layered glass.

"Shit," Rude whispered behind her, as they crouched behind the doorway, peering around it.

"Take Scarlet out when I give the word," Elena whispered. "Don't want to alert the others immediately, but she has to go first." She wondered if Scarlet was going to pull the lever and kill Reno herself. Given her history with him, she wouldn't be surprised in the least. Scarlet and Reno despised each other. "She's bullet-proofed, but I don't see any defensive materia armor."

"She wears it under her dress on her thigh," Rude said. "She used to use Ice and Fire protection. Probably still does. I'll use Bolt."

Elena raised an eyebrow. So apparently Reno hadn't been the only Turk to see what Scarlet kept under her dress.

Reno began struggling in earnest all of a sudden and it didn't escape Elena's attention. He was screaming something. She could hear his voice but couldn't make out the words from where she was. She looked to where his eyes were focused with such intensity.

The executioner's hand was on the lever that would kill Reno very quickly. She remembered briefly that the executioner also used Ice and Fire defensively and was usually susceptible to Lightning materia, just as easily and smoothly as she remembered his soft eyes that had always shone with intelligence and passion.

Rude hadn't seen him yet, and there was no time to wait for him to. If Tseng pulled that switch and they had to fight their way to Reno before they could use Phoenix Down on him, it might be too late. If they could even find a Phoenix Down. He must not have the chance to open that grating beneath the chair. She was keenly aware of her own anguish at making the split second decision, but she didn't hesitate to make it, and didn't hesitate to carry it out.

"Now," she said steadily, and Rude leapt out behind her, casting Bolt on Scarlet, just as Elena ran to a better vantage point and did the same to Tseng.

She turned her eyes away as soon as she saw him fall. Tseng was out of commission and there was still work to be done.

With Tseng and Scarlet out of the way, they were besieged by the guards. Elena remembered the summon materia, and held the staff out in front of her as she accessed the power in the shining orb.

The room grew stiflingly hot, and she knew it would be a fire based attack. If the guards were wearing armor with fire protective materia, which she assumed they were, it wouldn't do as much damaged as she had hoped, but it would definitely get them out of the way. She could tell by the amount of power it took from her to do the summoning.

The summoned creature seemed to be a female type figure rising out of a mountain, and it reminded her of the Ramuh summoning she had seen once or twice, except that fire and lava flowed from this mountain. The woman-type figure's hair was made up of fire. It was too bright, and Elena had to look away.

By the time the summon was done and had disappeared again, lava covered the guards and cooled quickly on them, leaving vaguely human shaped lumps around the room.

She knew it wouldn't last forever, and they had to get out.

"Wow," Rude said in the suddenly deathly quiet room. "Nice summon."

"Yeah," Elena said, smearing the hot dust out of her eyes. She saw that Reno was still strapped to the chair, his mouth hanging open in shock. He'd been far enough away from Elena at the time of the summoning that it hadn't done any damage to him, but it had melted the glass in the window to the gas chamber.

Reno didn't seem to know where to look first, and Rude went to him quickly and began to undo the straps the held him in the chair. Reno was pulling against the bonds before Rude even had them undone.

"Tseng," Reno whispered as he finally stood up. Rude looked back over his shoulder.

Elena registered the fact that they had to get out quickly, even as she stared at Tseng, who lay unmoving on the floor below the lever he had been about to pull. Rude and Reno were soon beside her.

Rude knelt down and turned Tseng onto his back.

"He's alive," he said.

"I see that," Elena said. "I used Bolt."

Reno stared at her incredulously. "YOU did it?" he finally said.

"Of course!" Elena said, suddenly angry. "Of course I did it, you stupid idiot! He was going to kill you; would you rather if I had just let him kill you!"

"No, Elena, I'm just saying that...I don't know, I never expected..."

"You didn't think I could," she finished in a bitter tone. "You thought I'd be the first one to wimp out and save precious, dear Tseng at everyone else's expense. Let me guess, Reno, you thought I'd hesitate, right?"

"Elena," he said softly, and she could perceive a very rarely heard earnestness in his voice, "_I_ would have hesitated. I'm not saying it to judge you."

"We can't stand here and argue about it," Rude snapped, taking his hand away from Tseng's wrist where he had been feeling for a pulse. "We have to get out of here, and get Tseng out too."

Elena snapped her head in Rude's direction.

"We are taking him, right, Elena?" Reno asked.

Right. She was field commander, and it was up to her. "We don't have a choice," she found herself saying, much to her own relief. "If we leave him, ShinRa still has him on their side. So we take him, even if it is as a prisoner."

Rude, easily the biggest and physically strongest person in the group, snaked his arm under Tseng's back, lifted him, then threw him over both shoulders.

"He's not light, might have to switch..." he began, but was cut off as a bullet flew past his head.

Elena turned to see Scarlet sitting up and taking aim again. Reno pulled her out of the way as another bullet whistled past her ear.

She realized that the effects of her summoning were wearing off as well, as the dried lava began to flake and crack.

"Let's go!" she ordered. There was no time to stay and fight, not now that they had Tseng. And Reno was completely unarmed and without materia.

They ran past Scarlet as she aimed a spray of bullets at them. None of them were bullet-proofed; they'd had their vests taken away from them as well. One of the bullets sailed right over Tseng's head, and with her enhanced vision, Elena could see a few of his hairs fly off, severed by the bullet. Much too close.

Rude went through the door first, followed by Elena, and Reno had to dive out of the door as she fired after them. Elena heard a man's voice and knew that the guards were beginning to come back.

"The airport!" Reno shouted.

Junon airport was right above them, and there were always choppers and airplanes taking off. Wouldn't be too much of a challenge to grab one and get rid of the pilot, had they not had Tseng to worry about.

But Elena _was_ worried. She was very worried. Not so much for her own life or her friends' lives, as they had all been trained for survival under these same conditions. She worried more about what was going to happen when Tseng woke up.

In fact, she hadn't yet dealt with the fact that Tseng was with them. She supposed she would later, and then she was afraid she might have to go to pieces. She suspected she might not be the only one.

As long as no one saw her, she thought as they burst through the doorway to the Junon airport, it would be okay.


	7. chapter seven

_A coupla things. First, Reeve's last name. Why? I couldn't think of anything I liked better, and at the time when I wrote this section (sometime in late summer of '00,) I was nearly done with my first season of wildlife rehabilitation, and I was raising a bluejay. One of my co-workers had named him Skye. I was fangirling over Reeve. Reeve Skye was the result. /_

_Also bear in mind that, since this was written four years ago, it was way before I would have even considered the notion that someday there would be an Advent Children. It seems to me now, thanks to this beautiful and clear animation, that the marks on Reno's face are tattoos. Back then, I, like most fans, took them for scars. In the spirit of that summer, and because I don't want to retro-fit anything because of Advent Children, I haven't changed that part of the story. For the purposes of this fanfic, the marks on Reno's face are scars._

_There are loads upon loads of flashbacks in this section. Everything in this chapter is ShinRa. Oh, and this chapter is loooooooong. _

_-_

Reeve

_-_

After a day of lying underneath a large piece of NeoMidgar, Reeve was hazily sure that his worst fear was true: there definitely WAS something lodged in his back. There wasn't enough light to see how much of his own blood had pooled around him, but he felt as if he had lost a lot. He wondered vaguely why he was still alive, since he had never been terribly Mako enhanced when he was with ShinRa. They'd considered him the brains, not so much the brawn.

He wondered also how many vital organs had been skewered by whatever had gone through him.

But most of all, he found himself wondering why he had bothered to regain consciousness again, since he was so much happier when he wasn't thinking about the fact that he was lying under a large piece of NeoMidgar with something lodged in his back. The logical thing to do was to pass out, and Reeve did it willingly; but not without going over one more time just what had gotten him into this dire situation.

_-_

_He'd met with the Turks two days before, and had gotten them a room at the inn in Costa Del Sol before flying out to get back to his office. (Elena had insisted on paying him back for the room when they were paid from the mission. Reno had told her, smiling, to shut the hell up and let the man pay if he wanted to.) Reeve had been very glad to see them again. _

_He was not, however, pleased that they were all babbling about Sephiroth coming back. Reeve was sure it was another clone. But, what if it was a clone with Jenova cells? He'd never heard any solid proof that Jenova was truly gone. It was possible. It was also possible that Sephiroth might have gone over the edge without the help of Jenova and done the exact same things. And if that same Sephiroth had truly returned, Reeve would have to tell Cloud Strife and the rest of Avalanche. Mostly, he did not want to get them involved in it. There was no guarantee that Strife would be able to pull off another victory against Sephiroth anyway, and he might end up getting himself killed this time. But on the other hand, if Sephiroth truly was looking for him, Reeve could at least give him the advantage of being forewarned. _

_On the aircraft back to NeoMidgar, Reeve found himself torn between wanting to spare them all having to face Sephiroth again, and warning them that they might have to, should it be inevitable. He decided that after sleeping on it, he'd find out what he could from Cait Sith._

_He turned his thoughts back to the Turks. They had each changed a lot, but it had still been a good meeting, for the most part. Although, he wasn't exactly comfortable talking business with them. He'd never had much to do with the Turks when they had all been with ShinRa, except on a social basis. Actually working with them, that had been Heidegger's department. Heidegger was the one who dispatched the Turks. Heidegger had set them on missions. Heidegger had sent them on manhunts in the name of "peace." _

_Reeve drew maps and buildings and played with computers. But he _

_supposed he was the only logical choice of contact for this new group who had hired the Turks. It was no secret that Heidegger was a ShinRa leftover who was still fiercely loyal to the old company. And it was also no big secret that the Turks had bailed, and no longer worked for Heidegger. And it certainly was no secret at all that he himself had betrayed ShinRa. Not only betrayed. Dissed. Hard._

_So they had come to him, and he had found the Turks, and told them that a mission had found them. _

_Maybe he'd be able to keep in touch with them after this. It would be nice to have some friends around once again. _

_But a nagging worry played at the back of his mind after the meeting. Reno just hadn't been...Reno. And he had been living in NeoMidgar, the city that Reeve basically ran single-handedly._

_NeoMidgar was definitely coming along. The godforsaken plate was gone for good. There was air. Might not have been the cleanest yet, but he was working on funding for better pollution control. There was sunlight. There were flowers._

_But there was still not enough of anything to go around. It had gotten better-much better since Scarlet had been voted out and he had been voted in-but it wasn't a place for Reno. All of the Turks had fallen on hard times, but they could have chosen almost anywhere to fall on those hard times. Why had Reno chosen NeoMidgar? Some kind of weird act of contrition?_

_Reeve split his time between Junon and NeoMidgar (which some people still insisted on calling Midgar...though Reeve supposed technically it would now be NeoNeoMidgar, a thought which made him want to laugh and cry simultaneously.) He worked from two offices, and the one in Junon was closer to the people with whom he needed to work and negotiate. But he did spend a lot of his free time in NeoMidgar. With the Turks looking into a new mission, Reeve felt comfortable going back there blend in. He did that once in a while, to try to get a feel for how things were going by actually being with the people. Undercover, of course. It was surprising how few people recognized him when he took off his tie._

_So a day after his meeting with the Turks, Reeve found himself walking down a dimly lit street of NeoMidgar. Too dimly lit. Electricity was another big problem. There just wasn't enough energy to sustain the population of the city and they suffered frequent brownouts. Reeve had been looking into the ideas that Cosmo Canyon had put into effect with such success, but Cosmo Canyon was considerably smaller, and didn't rely so much on electricity. And was a hell of a lot less rowdy than NeoMidgar._

_Reeve sort of liked the rowdy side of it. The people had a lot of spirit. They had survived so very, very much at the hands of ShinRa, Sephiroth, and even, he thought with no small amount of shame, himself. Because he had been the man to draw up the final design of that stupid goddamned plate that had made everyone so miserable._

_That night on a dark street it NeoMidgar, Reeve was surprised to find that he had stopped walking and was banging his head against a brick wall. True enough, he had often felt like doing that before, but had never actually done it, especially without realizing it. Curious. Maybe the stress was getting to him after all. It was about time he lost his mind. Damn thing kept getting in the way of his plans all the time._

_The city, he went on thinking as if nothing had happened, kept taking a beating, and kept on coming back, undaunted. It was the city that refused to die. And its people, especially those of the former Sector Seven, had developed a kind of "bring it on" attitude that was very contagious. _

_Since Reeve had almost begun to think of NeoMidgar as his child, a child that needed a lot of cheering up, he had gotten funding for a small amusement park, modeled loosely on the arcade at the Gold Saucer and drastically downsized. Of course the funding had gone under some different name he had made up, some kind of technological or computer network research thingie, and who the hell cared what he called it; he wanted the gil for NeoMidgar and he'd gotten it. It wasn't much, just over five hundred thousand gil that would have been wasted elsewhere. And also, it was fun. He'd had it built just outside of where the old playground had been, and the playground had also been rebuilt. _

_It was to this small amusement arcade that Reeve was headed on that night. _

_It was loud and bright inside the arcade, and an audio-animatronic Mog sat... or stood, or squatted, or whatever the hell Mogs did, by the entrance. Children were admitted free; Reeve paid five gil to get in. Children, teens and adults played games and socialized and there was a room for parents to sit and chat as well, away from the noise. Reeve had no interest in that section, and he headed to one of the games, paid the gil to start the game and grabbed the controls. _

_It was a basic good against evil fight that was a tiny bit subversive, Reeve noted, as he shot down the invading forces in the virtual city. The city had the basic outline of the original city of Midgar, and the invaders, in a sly little twist, came from _inside_ the entity that was the city. At least Reeve had always imagined it to be a city, but he guessed that other people could have visualized it differently. And damned if those little invaders blipping across the screen and trying to infest the city from the inside didn't remind him of a cancer at work in a body. Or maybe not so much a cancer as a rapidly reproducing virus. Yes, that was exactly what it reminded him of, now that he thought of it. Invading cells that he had to shoot down. The more he shot down, the faster they came out, and every time he beat a group of them, he was sucked further into the body-no, the city, he corrected-faster and faster...his fingers on autopilot now..._

_"WOOO! Damn, not bad, man!" _

_Reeve jumped a mile in the air, his concentration broken as the voice bellowed behind him, and came down off his rush as his little protagonist was wiped out of existence._

_"Oh, sorry, did I make ya die?"_

_Reeve turned around to see a young man in his late teens or early twenties, staring at the screen. He had long brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, and a freckled face. _

_"That's all right," Reeve said. "I guess I played too long anyway."_

_"You got a high score, aren't you gonna enter your initials?"_

_Reeve shook his head. "Nah."_

_"Well, not bad for an old guy."_

_Ouch. The feeling that phrase gave him was unexpected. He supposed he did seem old to this young kid, but goddamn, he was only thirty six._

_"Not bad at all," the kid said, "but that's nothing. I could whoop your ass."_

_He was suddenly vaguely jealous of this naive punk standing next to him. "All right," Reeve said playfully, with a challenge in his voice. "Let's go. You take the one next to me."_

_"You're on. You wanna play for gil?"_

_Reeve laughed. "How much?"_

_"Ten gil says I beat you. Five more gil says I beat you by at least a thousand."_

_"Okay," Reeve said. "I hate to take gil from kids, but, if you say so."_

_The kid put his gil in the slot of his game, and Reeve started his at the same time._

_And he was sucked back into the world of bright, blipping lights, figures dancing across the screen... autopilot again... sucked into the little blinking world, the sounds and sights of the rest of the arcade not even peripheral anymore as his focus sharpened._

_The game went on for a good five minutes, until he heard the kid _

_next to him swear in frustration. Reeve kept going, unaware that the young man was now behind him, staring in rapt fascination._

_It ended a minute or so later, as it always did, Reeve's little icon getting wiped out by the invaders. Inevitable loss._

_"Man," the kid said appreciatively. "You must really like that game."_

_Reeve turned around and leaned back against the game, facing the young man. "'Course I like it," he said. "I designed it."_

_The kid's jaw nearly hit the floor. "_You_ made that game?"_

_"Well, I designed it and wrote the program. That's why I really can't take your gil."_

_"That's awesome! Hey Bryan! Come here for a sec!" The kid turned away and waved one of his friends over, while Reeve tried to shush him and ask him not to._

_"S'up?" said Bryan, another youngster, this one with blond hair. He had a slice of pizza in his greasy handsn and he eyed Reeve warily, as if wondering why a full on adult...no, not just an adult but an "old guy," might be hanging around with his friend._

_"You know this game?" Reeve's gaming competitor asked his friend as he pointed to the machine._

_"Yeah," Bryan said, leaving the "so what" part unspoken._

_"This guy invented it!"_

_Bryan looked mildly surprised. "Really?"_

_Reeve made a mock bow._

_"I know you," Bryan said, realization dawning on his face. "I saw you on TV. You're that guy."_

_"What guy?" the other kid asked Bryan._

_"That Reeve Skye guy. Aren't you?"_

_Reeve shrugged and wanted to answer "sometimes," but refrained._

_"What the hell are you doing here?" Bryan asked._

_"Just hanging out," he said._

_Both kids smiled. "Cool," they said simultaneously._

_It had only been perhaps five minutes later, maybe even less, that Reeve was walking out of the arcade, feeling slightly better, if slightly older at the same time. He'd been thinking again about NeoMidgar and its inhabitants, who liked to have a good time, and who kept on living in NeoMidgar no matter what seemed to go wrong with it. He very badly wanted to make things better in his lifetime. _

_And after all, how many beatings could one little city possibly take? _

_That was when he had first heard the low rumble, and felt the first tremor. He held onto the lamp post, the too-dim light casting his shadow softly on the cracked sidewalk. What in the hell had just happened...? _

_It happened again, louder and closer. _

_After the third rumble, there hadn't even been time for him to panic._

_-_

Sephiroth

-

Easily following the Turks on their first mission, Sephiroth had found himself miles out of Midgar. The Turks had gone onward in an armored van. Curious as to what their exact mission was, and what it might mean to him, Sephiroth walked after them, following the tracks. And walked. And walked. And walked.

And fought as well, because monsters were still plentiful. That much had remained the same. It was convenient too, because they carried a lot of gil and items, as well as helping him build another limit break.

He still did not have a good idea of how long he had been in the Lifestream. Midgar had changed considerably, as he'd noticed when he had first found Reno. The plate over it was gone. That was a nice change; it had been a monstrosity to look at. Almost as bad as the Gold Saucer.

Reno had changed a great deal, or so it seemed to Sephiroth. Sephiroth only remembered him vaguely as a new recruit in SOLDIER. He had known him perhaps only a month, maybe even less; he couldn't remember the exact amount of time, just that Reno had talked too much. He remembered feeling that he was probably all talk and no action, just another stupid child. But Reno must have changed for the better, as he was still alive, and now with the Turks. Sephiroth remembered something about that, but he couldn't place what it was. Had he been around for Reno's recruitment into the Turks? He couldn't remember, but it had obviously happened with or without him.

Perhaps some of Rude's better qualities had rubbed off on Reno. Rude had been around longer, but didn't stand out in his mind quite as much. What he could remember of Rude was positive, however. He knew when to keep his mouth shut.

He had never seen the blond Turk before; she must have been the latest recruit.

He could recall another Turk as well. Tall, with dark hair and eyes. Sephiroth knew that he had worked with that man, or at least spoken to him, but he couldn't find his name in his mind. Sephiroth hadn't seen him nor heard anything about him. He supposed he had met his match somewhere; men like him never died naturally. It was regrettable.

As he walked on, he thought about what else might come back to him. There was no use in forcing memories; doing that only served to frustrate him, and frustration was a useless feeling. The memories came slowly, and he was patient with them.

He remembered President ShinRa. Something told him President ShinRa was gone; he couldn't say why.

Heidegger. He'd heard the blonde Turk, Elena was her name, mention Heidegger. He was probably still alive.

Palmer.

Scarlet.

...Scarlet. Yes, he certainly did remember her. He smirked and laughed a little out loud. She was smart in technical terms, and very shrewd, but so stupid in so many ways as well. He could remember that she had tried, like nearly everyone else he had ever met, to control him in some way, share in some of his power, or delve into his world and steal a little of what he had. He had been young-younger than Scarlet-but much shrewder than she would ever be. He had never given her exactly what she wanted, which was power, and more power. But it had been amusing to waste a little of his off time with her once in a while.

As he walked, he could see more of the plate-less Midgar. And as it came into view, the ground trembled, with a low rumbling sound. Then another, almost on top of it. Then, after a brief pause, another.

In the distance, he could see a few of the taller buildings in Midgar shudder, as if there was an earthquake.

He frowned as he watched it happen. This was no earthquake; it just didn't feel natural. It felt more timed. And with the Turks over there...

This could only have been the Turks' mission, he surmised: to destroy something in Midgar. But what? he wondered. To what end? And was that all there was to it? No, it wouldn't be anything that simple. And why would they accept it?

With the dawn of realization, he remembered that when he had escaped from the laboratory, it had been near Midgar. Of course. The laboratory was under it. Someone had most likely set them to destroy it.

Well, that was one less thing he'd have to worry about, in any case.

He could see two helicopters over Midgar as it crumbled. The best course of action was to keep heading in the same direction. Something of interest was bound to turn up there.

Sephiroth had walked for a day through the remains of Midgar. It was in ruins. Survivors were panicking and looting. He kept the hood of his own stolen cloak over his head. Such a pitiful mess, as they scrambled around, with no sense of organization or efficiency, no plan of action. Who ran this city? he wondered. Why was there no immediate help? It almost seemed as if ShinRa was still in power. Who else could be so ineffectual?

He'd stopped in the ruins of what had been a weapons shop. A man, presumably the owner, sat atop what had once been a counter, crying. Sephiroth ignored him, and his eyes fell upon a tremendous broad sword. As he looked at it, he felt a tingling, almost burning pain across his front. Familiar. A broad sword with a long handle...

"What do you call that sword?" he asked the sobbing man.

The man looked up at him, sniffling, then followed his gaze to the sword. "Murasame."

_Murasame... Masamune..._ Where was Masamune, anyway? What had become of it? It was the finest, most beautifully made katana he had ever held. He missed the weight of it in his hand.

But he needed something. Fighting with just his hands, he had reached his limit breaks very quickly. "How much?"

"Seventy five hundred."

He handed over most of the gil he had gotten, and took the Murasame.

He then found a demolished, empty materia shop. There he found Restore, Revive, Ice, and Time. He took one of each and left some gil in its place. It wouldn't do to become a thief. People often mistook calamity for a good excuse to do what they had always wanted to do and get away with it. But that only led to more confusion and chaos. Thievery was only one step above begging.

Not having slept in over a day, he then stopped to rest in the ruins of a hotel. At dawn, he set out again. He supposed the Turks had been in one of the helicopters that had been flying over Midgar. Well, he would find them again later.

He kept on walking through Midgar, finding less and less survivors

as the day went on. It seemed that, finally, some authority was evacuating the city, though they had taken their time about it.

He wondered why whoever had sent the Turks on this mission hadn't found a sounder way of destroying the laboratory underneath. But people were lazy and usually took the easy way out, over the option of having to think.

He found more and more dead as he got to the center of the city. There was really no time to feel sorry for it. There never was any point in dwelling on things you couldn't change.

But then he found something that he could change. There was a sudden, small movement right by his foot. He looked down to see a hand grasping weakly at the ground. Most of the rest of the body was covered with a very large piece of metal and cement, from where the road had broken through.

Sephiroth recognized the low, soft hum of a human consciousness dying out. It also felt familiar, and he realized he probably vaguely remembered his own dying rhythm.

With an amount of effort comparable to a normal person lifting a television set, Sephiroth lifted the piece of metal and cement, roughly the weight of a small car, and threw it to the side. Underneath it was a man, lying face down with a long piece of metal jutting out from the side of his lower back. His once white shirt was maroon with dried blood. He was broad, with black and grey hair, and amazingly, he was alive.

Sephiroth crouched down and felt along his spine and neck, making sure it wasn't broken. If it was, one move could be the end of him. After making sure that nothing vital was broken, he braced his knee against the man's back, grabbed the piece of metal that was piercing him, and pulled. It slid out easily, and the body lay still. Sephiroth used his materia to cast Cure. Then he did it once more, slowing the flow of blood, making sure the man stayed alive.

Because somehow, it felt important.

The metal piece was long, and had been lodged deeply in the man's back. Sephiroth turned him over. As he stared, he put a name to the bloody face and the staring, shock filled eyes. A handsome, intelligent face with a neatly trimmed beard and moustache.

"Reeve," he whispered. He couldn't find the last name in his mind. He'd always gone by his first name. He remembered Reeve from ShinRa, who had only just become the head of Urban Development, in his most recent memory of him. He'd designed Midgar. He'd been a sincere, if slightly naive man at the time, very bright and just shy of ambitious. He had mostly kept to himself, but had never treated Sephiroth with anything but respect and politeness. They were the about same age, from what he could remember.

Sephiroth couldn't begin to guess how much time had passed since he had seen Reeve-they had both been in their mid twenties, and Reeve had begun to go grey back then. Reeve now looked to be about thirty, but there was no use trying to judge how long he himself had been in the Lifestream by that. The two Turks he remembered had changed as well.

Sephiroth saw no reason for him to die of his injuries, even if they looked terrible at the moment. Every breath he took, few and far between, was shallow and gasping, but Reeve had been a strong person, certainly not a SOLDIER type, but one who kept in good shape. There was a good chance he'd live.

And Sephiroth also saw no reason to let him die either. So he laid both hands on him and let the cool green aura surround them both, as he had done with Reno of the Turks. It was a very powerful healing spell, and took affect almost immediately.

Reeve's eyes began to focus though he continued to stare at the sky.

"Skye," Sephiroth said quietly.

"Yes," Reeve whispered. "Goddamnit yes, a thousand times, yes..."

Sephiroth leaned closer to make out more of what he was saying. As he crouched down, Reeve's eyes locked on his, unfocused at first. Then they became aware. There was a brief moment of recognition, followed by two obvious emotions that confused Sephiroth: fear and anger.

The Turks had looked at him the same way.

His own intuition told him that moment to back up quickly, but Reeve had already managed to grab the piece of metal that had been sticking out of him, and he took a swing with it. It grazed Sephiroth's cheek, and he stood up quickly.

_-_

Reeve

-

Things were going very strangely in Reeve's head. He had fought for control of his thoughts, but every time he did, consciousness would rear its ugly head and he'd find himself once again lying under a piece of Midgar with something lodged in his back.

It sucked, very badly.

But he refused to die. Anyway, his entire life had not finished flashing before his eyes yet. Not that it flashed so much as...paraded. Visions here and there, scenes he liked to remember, ones he'd rather forget. And a very realistic dream in which the giant plate over Midgar, the one he had designed for ShinRa, that had caused such misery and conflict, crashed down on top of him. He couldn't bring himself to think of it as justice. Sure, he had designed the stupid thing. And sure, it had been a big mistake too...

And he _had_, after all, known of the plan to drop the plate. He'd tried to stop them doing it, even gone behind their backs to try to discover when it would happen so he could warn someone, but to no avail, of course. It was too sudden.

But when he had voiced his disapproval, the president had asked him if he wanted out, and he'd said no. Because he knew that when the president said "out," he didn't mean just out of ShinRa. "Out of ShinRa" was synonymous with "out of life."

So the idea of being noble had taken a long hike.

But to have the whole damn plate fall on him? That was a little harsh. He hadn't even been the one who'd sent it crashing down onto Midgar's inhabitants.

That little action had been Reno's, and for a while, Reeve had hated him for it. At least until he had heard murmurs of the truth, and that was around the time when Reeve's eyes really began to open, and he saw ShinRa for the first time. And he'd been appalled.

At first it had just been a rumor, one he had accidentally stumbled upon. Well, if one could call hacking into ShinRa's computer files an accident...

_-_

_...Waiting for files, especially hacked ones, to download, was boring. Reeve sat at his desk, fiddling with the little robot thingamajig he'd been putting together, occasionally staring out the window. From the haziness, he could tell that it was hot as hell out there, and humid. Not in his office though. A nice frigid 60 degrees with the air conditioner on. Maybe even a little chilly for him, though he was one of those people who always seemed hot when everyone else was nice and cool._

Shut up,_ he told himself. _Pay attention._ He had misconnected two wires in his little electronic thingamajig and the head was spinning. He was awfully bored. And awfully depressed._

_And bitter. And guilty. And hateful._

_He wanted to throw the thingamajig across the room, but reminded himself that he was more prudent and tightly controlled than that. He settled for cracking his knuckles and his neck, and chewing on his pen. _

_Sector Seven of Midgar. Gone. Goodbye. _

_"Stress is a killer," came a smooth as ice female voice. _

_Reeve didn't even have to look up, but he did anyway. Better to meet her eyes than to feel her staring at him. "Good morning, Scarlet."_

_She walked lazily into his office, and didn't look at him as she went _

_to his wide window and pressed her hands against it as she stared out. "Reeve, listen."_

Great. Mock sympathy from Scarlet. Smarmy bitch.

_"Yeah?"_

_"I know it's been a few weeks and all, but I didn't get to tell you this before. I'm sorry for what happened in Midgar."_

_She wasn't looking at him. He could hear the insincerity dripping from her tongue. God almighty, she had nerve. She'd designed the bomb, and she had known full well what it was for. Scarlet knew everything about the corporation. Sometimes he thought she had a better grasp than the not so dearly departed President himself. _

_"All those innocent lives..."_

_"Stop it, Scarlet." _

_She turned dramatically and stared at him with her big, insincere eyes. "Stop what?"_

_Reeve sighed heavily and leaned back in his chair. "I thought the new President was your toy of the moment," he said._

_She was behind him quickly, rubbing his neck, and he had to admit that it felt good. "Oh, you stop it, Reeve," she said, dropping her act. "Quit being so dramatic. You have to have realized by now that we all belong to this corporation and we all have done what we had to do. So maybe you have regrets," she said, her voice turning hard and cold, "so what, so you live with them. So a big chunk of your city got crunched, so what. Live with it. A bunch of people you never even met died. Live with it. Some flower-selling street tramp got captured and then sprung. You get the picture. You're not the only one with regrets, you selfish bastard."_

_What was this? Emotion from Scarlet? Had her voice actually betrayed a bit of passion? He turned his chair around so he could look at her directly. Her face, for a moment, looked almost genuinely alive. Then she faded back into her hard shell just as quickly._

_"So what can you do about it?" she asked. "We belong together. All of us, all of us in ShinRa. There's no one on the outside of this corporation, Reeve. Just you. Me. The Turks. Hojo, Heidegger... One big happy family." She pushed his hair back with both of her hands, and smiled. "What can you do?" _

_Reeve sighed. He was so bored. So depressed. So goddamn lonely. And she was so...there. What could he do? At that moment, he had no sane idea what he could do. In that, Scarlet had a point. He shrugged, stood up, and took off his jacket._

_Scarlet was a woman who didn't like to waste time, and she practically jumped on him, pinning him back against his desk as she kissed him. _

_If anything, the room seemed to get colder. _

There's no one outside of this corporation. We belong to this corporation._ Her words reverberated coldly in his mind as she began to undo the buttons of his shirt. He looked over Scarlet's shoulder and out the window where, in the distance, he could see Midgar, and the section of blue sky where the plate over Sector Seven had been. _

_He had fooled himself when they first started building it that he didn't exactly understand what it would mean to the people below it. _Oh, people living beneath a gigantic plate? Lives devoid of air and sun? Low income housing developments? Never even considered it!_ So much bullshit. Yeah, he had been young and eager and somewhat naive, but not stupid enough that it really escaped his grasp. _You were scared of saying no, and excited about saying yes.

_Still, could all the blame go on an eighteen year old architectural prodigy? _

You bet. What's the age of reason? Seven?

_Scarlet slid her hands around his back, under his shirt. He stared out the window as she kissed him. _

_He briefly wondered what Scarlet had been like when she joined ShinRa. Had she ever been sincere or optimistic? Reeve wondered if someday he would end up like Scarlet, using people for their corporate power, reveling in destruction. Would he end up coming on to all of the girls in the building? His young secretary with her thick, dark hair and Costa Del Sol eyes? The new girl from the library who worked out in the gym? For a moment he pictured himself cornering the new blonde Turk in one of the hallways. Elena...Elena... She was so fresh, with her bobbed hair and wide eyes, looking up at him, and he was overwhelming her with his corporate power and... it was as disgusting, revolting, and deplorable as it was seductive._

_And now, as he was twenty six and feeling much older..._

_...while the old president had been murdered, presumably by a man whom he himself had known, and the dead president's smooth son was taking over... _

_...while the remaining inhabitants of Sector Seven struggled to salvage what little they had earned, and buried their dead at the same time..._

_...while the corporation that owned him was rotting from the inside..._

_...the Head of the Weapons Department was climbing all over him on his nice desk, in his nice climate controlled room, mussing up his nice shirt and pants, and he had to wonder who was really the whore in this cute little scenario._

Jesus, look at me,_ he thought, as Scarlet kissed him full on the mouth. _Look at what ShinRa made of me.

_ShinRa, he knew then, was killing him. The whole corporation was slowly sucking all of the good out of him and replacing it with indifference and cool ambition. He realized with a certain amount of horror that he had stopped being the Good Guy a long time ago._

_Scarlet might have been insensitive but she was not oblivious, and she had noticed that Reeve wasn't exactly there anymore. She backed away from him, watching him as he stared out the window. Her eyes narrowed in disgust. "What's the matter, Reeve?" she asked, dropping her hands to her sides. "You're too good for me all of a sudden?"_

_"Look, Scarlet..." he was interrupted as his computer rather loudly informed him that the file he had requested was complete._

Crap.

_Scarlet tried looking over his shoulder. "What file is that, Reeve? Hmm?"_

_Reeve thought quickly and kicked the surge protector off under his desk, shutting the entire computer down. "My personal business," he replied._

_She sneered at him. "Your personal business," she spat. "You're ShinRa. You don't _have_ any personal business. Everything you do belongs now to Rufus. Every file you download. Every plan you draw up. Those shiny black shoes you wear. Every hair on your head." She grabbed his hair for emphasis and brought her face close to his. "YOU belong to Rufus ShinRa, and Reeve, you'd better believe me when I tell you that there is no leaving him. ShinRa paid good money for that soul of yours."_

_Her words and her sudden violence at his rejection shocked him. He knew that she was more angered at his rejection of ShinRa, which he suspected was becoming obvious, than his rejection of her. _

ShinRa owns your soul.

_He pushed her away from him suddenly. "You sadistic bitch," he hissed, straightening himself up. "Get the hell out of my office."_

_He had seen people's faces soften into a smile, but her face actually grew harder as she smiled. "I'm going to keep an eye on you, Reeve," she said sweetly. "If you go near anyone outside of ShinRa, I'll know about it. I can even trace your emails." She advanced on him once more and put her hand against his chest. "It's a shame," she said teasingly. "You weren't bad, you know."_

_She straightened her dress and walked out of his office briskly._

_Reeve sat back in his chair, stunned, feeling numb. "God," he finally said out loud. "I really hate that broad." He felt like he would shower for three hours when he got home._

_And then he remembered the files he had downloaded, on the recent destruction of Sector Seven. When he fired the computer up and retrieved it, he was quite surprised to learn of Hojo's involvement._

_-_

_A few weeks after the incident with Scarlet and downloading the file on the destruction of Sector Seven, Reeve sat in the same office, staring out the same window, playing with the same thingamajig. It was still in its basic form, no covering yet, but its shape vaguely reminded him of a cat that his mother had had when he was little. It could now swivel its head from side to side and had stored a few phrases in its computer chip mind. He toyed with the idea of an advanced Artificial Intelligence program. As of now it was semi artificially intelligent. It could work out a few simple learning problems without his interference. It would be cooler though, if he could somehow control it from a distance. It would fool the hell out of people and he'd get a good laugh._

_And he really needed one. He still hadn't been able to get his encounter with Scarlet out of his mind. The things she had said to him had hit him hard. He had found himself thinking more and more about the rebel group that ShinRa was after._

_Not only thinking about them. Outright fantasizing about them. Because in Reeve's mind-which had admittedly been formed largely by comic books-Avalanche were the heroes, and ShinRa were the villains._

_Scarlet had not been joking around. She had indeed had him followed, and she'd even gone so far as to have his home phone tapped. He noticed it immediately, since whoever had done it had been very sloppy about it. He went along with it though, pretending that he didn't know. But he did let slip once or twice over the phone that Scarlet was still hot for him and he had rejected her, just like everyone else had._

_It was another swelteringly hot day as Reeve pretended to work for ShinRa, when he'd gotten the call that Reno of the Turks was coming up to see him about an important matter._

_Reeve buzzed him up. He could guess what it was about, but wasn't positive. He also wasn't entirely prepared to see Reno show up in his office with a six pack, looking almost shy, in a petulant sort of way._

_"Come on in," Reeve said, pretending to be distracted by work, pretending he didn't feel the least bit awkward. Most of all, pretending that he had nothing to hide, nothing that this twitchy punk with violently red hair might have to kill him over._

_Reno came in, sat quietly in front of his desk, and opened a beer. _

Aw, what the hell? Drinking on the job is the least of my offenses here,_ Reeve thought, and opened one too. "What brings you up here?" he asked._

_Reno gave him a small smile that said, "As if you didn't know." There was a small pause. "Midgar," he finally said._

_Reeve nodded; it wasn't exactly as he'd thought, and that was a good thing. The Turk didn't seem to be about to kill him. Instead, he seemed incredibly sad. There was the possibility that the kid was completely insane and would kill him anyway, but Reeve didn't think so. His gut feeling told him that Reno's sadness was sincere. _

_"Look, Reno..." he began hesitantly. He wasn't positive he knew exactly where Reno was going with this, but he decided to take a chance. And if Reno knew that he had stolen the file on Sector Seven, then there was nothing Reeve could do about that, and he might be better off admitting it. "Look," he went on, "I know all about what happened..."_

_"Yeah well, I just wanted to say I'm sorry. I know how lame that sounds, 'oh, sorry for blowing up your city.' And I'm not going to give you an excuse either; it's what happens in war. But for what it's worth, I am sorry it happened."_

_Reeve nodded, unsure of how to follow up. Of all things, he had not expected this. He took a sip of beer and sat back in his chair. _

_Reno spotted Reeve's little toy robot sitting next to the desk. He nodded sullenly towards it. "What's that?" _

_"Oh, that...I'm not sure yet. Just something I'm fiddling with when I get bored, which is often. I guess for now it's a piece of...semi intelligent talking hardware. Or something."_

_Reno's face brightened for a moment. "It's a S.I.T.H." he said._

_"A... Oh yeah, a S.I.T.H." Reeve smiled. _

_"Well anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I was sorry. So I guess I'll get going."_

_"Finish your beer," Reeve suggested. "This way if I get caught, I can blame it on you."_

_Reno looked at him sharply for a moment, unsure. Then the corner of his mouth quirked up in a sly smile._

_About two hours later, when most everyone else had clocked out, Reno was showing Reeve how his ElectroMag rod worked, and the six pack was gone. _

_It was nice to have someone to talk to that wasn't directly involved with his job. Sure, they worked for the same company, but Reno knew as much about city planning as Reeve did about, well, about whatever the Turks did. Reeve suspected Reno felt the same, and an edgy sort of camaraderie began between them. In ShinRa, everything was edgy._

_Reeve was playing distractedly with the EMr while Reno played with Reeve's computer on his desk. _

_"Hey Reno," Reeve began suddenly, not entirely sure what made him think to ask, "I know this is a personal question, so you can tell me to go to hell if you don't want to answer it..."_

_"Yes, it's my natural color, and yes, I can prove it if you want."_

_"Jesus, no," Reeve said, laughing._

_"I know, I know," Reno said as he looked up from the computer, still smirking over his own joke. "The scars," he said, running his hand down his cheek. "You wanna know how I got them."_

_"How'd you know?" Reeve asked._

_"Because that's what always follows the phrase 'this is a personal question, but...'"_

_Reeve nodded. "Just out of curiosity."_

_"Why else?" Reno replied. "It's not a long story, and no, I'm not sensitive about it or anything. It's pretty basic. You know, before I was in the Turks, I did a lot of odd jobs, finding things out for people, a little espionage here and there, piddly shit like that. I found some things out about someone that I wasn't supposed to, someone else wanted to know what it was, I didn't want to tell them, they had ways of making me talk. That kind of thing."_

_"Did you talk?"_

_Reno smiled slyly. "You better believe it," he said. "I told them all kinds of things. None of it was true, but, you know. Bought me enough time."_

_Reeve nodded, glad the question hadn't bothered him, and Reno went back to looking at the computer screen._

_Suddenly Reno spoke up. "Reeve, you dog!" he said, half laughing. "Who knew you were a perv?"_

_Reeve looked up sharply, sure that Reno had just found something in the computer files that Scarlet was sending around about him. Nothing was sacred to her. "What do you mean?" he asked. "Did that unprofessional hussy..."_

_Reno was looking at the computer, laughing. "It's not Scarlet, but thanks for letting me know that she has that kind of information on you," he said. "Talk about a guilty conscience."_

_"Whatever," Reeve said, trying to fight the flush he felt in his face, and looked up at what Reno was reading. He'd gotten into some real time chat files on Reeve's PlanetNet program, which he never used, but were nonetheless there on his computer._

_"Jeez..." Reno mused, reading down the list of chat rooms, "'Fat in Costa Del Sol...' 'Junon Harbor Sub4Dom...' 'Wife Likes To Watch!' 'I'm A Bad Chocobo...' Oh, this one's my favorite, 'MogLove!' Do you actually go to those chats?"_

_"No," Reeve said, laughing._

_"Yeah, so you say." Reno looked from the computer to Reeve, his eyes serious, though he was still smiling. "So you and Scarlet..."_

_Reeve rolled his eyes. "God, that's history. Please don't remind me."_

_"Yeah," Reno said. "Me too. Guess she's going through all the big names in ShinRa, huh? All the heavy hitters?"_

_"Maybe. I don't care." Reeve shrugged, and didn't want to talk about it anymore. _

_Suddenly the pager on his desk buzzed again. It was his secretary, informing him that now Tseng of the Turks wanted to see him._

_He frowned questioningly at Reno, who shrugged._

_"Send him up," Reeve said._

_A minute later, Tseng was at his door._

_Reeve had seen him around many times, but had never had a reason to talk to him, other than saying hello in passing occasionally. He looked to be a very stern and serious person, and he certainly didn't go out of his way to be friendly._

_Tseng looked mildly surprised to see Reno in Reeve's office._

_"Just leaving, boss," Reno said, suddenly becoming an entirely different person. He straightened his posture and attempted to smooth his hair with both his hands. He failed spectacularly at this endeavor._

_"Thank you, Reno; I need to speak to Mr. Skye alone," Tseng said._

_Reno nodded. "Later, Reeve," he said casually, and closed the door quietly behind him as he left._

_"Mr. Skye," Tseng greeted him._

_"Reeve."_

_Tseng nodded, his hands still clasped formally behind his back._

_Reeve wondered if Reno would be in trouble for coming to discuss Midgar with him. He wasn't entirely sure how the Turks worked, he only knew that Tseng was their leader, and they all worked for Heidegger. "Umm, Mr. Tseng," Reeve said, looking him in the eyes, "Reno just came by socially, after work hours, and we didn't really talk about anything important, so..."_

_Tseng waved his hand dismissively. "That's not why I'm here," he said. "I know that what happened with...with Midgar and Reno and myself is already all over the place. I know that Reno needed to talk about it, and I'd had the feeling that he's, in his own way, turned you into Midgar itself, so that he could tell you he was sorry. It's part of his process, I think. But, I have other things I need to discuss with you."_

_Reeve waited while Tseng stalked quietly around his room, eventually stopping at his window and staring out of it. He seemed to focus on the point where the plate over Midgar used to be._

_"There are very few people left in ShinRa whom I can trust anymore," he said finally. "Aside from my Turks, whom I trust implicitly. But, they're too notorious already and Avalanche has a way of always finding them out."_

_Reeve felt his heart sink. Tseng, implausible as it seemed, was probably going to ask him to do something to Avalanche; something that he wouldn't want to do. _

_"It seems that the Turks can't really get close to them." He turned away from the window and watched hawkishly for Reeve's reaction. "I just need a line on them," he said. "I know I could ask a number of ShinRa people who are trained for this sort of thing, and who have ways of being inconspicuous. But I can just as easily imagine each one of those people slipping a knife into my back, too."_

_Reeve was almost insulted. Did Tseng think he was totally harmless? "What makes you think I wouldn't?" he asked, trying not to sound hurt._

_Tseng smiled slightly. "Only because I know how you feel about Avalanche, and that I also have their interests in mind, to a point. Before you become paranoid and ask how I know, let me just say that it's my job to know, and that no one else does. Except maybe Scarlet. You come across as a sympathizer. It's not terribly obvious, so don't worry about it."_

_"All right, so what?" Reeve asked, a little harshly. "So I agree with some of what they stand for. Wouldn't that make me _more_ likely to slip a knife in your back, as you say?"_

_Tseng stared at him for a long moment, assessing him and choosing his own words carefully. "I like you, Reeve," he said finally. "I like you because you're into a little bit of everything, and you know how to keep quiet about it. You're an undeniably brilliant planner and architect, but you also know a lot about computers; you even have a good deal of martial arts training in your background, and you also served in SOLDIER for a very short time, didn't you?"_

_Reeve was too stunned to answer. No one aside from old President ShinRa had known about that, and a few of the people he'd served with. He had been in SOLDIER for a few months when he was 17, and had even had one or two sessions of Mako treatment._

_"I care about Avalanche as well," Tseng said, still staring into his eyes before turning away as he continued talking. He went back to looking out the window. "Though maybe not for the same reasons you do."_

_Reeve saw that there was probably no hiding anything from this man, so he might as well be as honest as he could and hope for the best. "I think that Avalanche has the right idea about a few things," he admitted. "And ShinRa...and ShinRa..." He struggled with the words, as if they didn't want to leave his mouth. He had never uttered them before, not out loud, even to himself. "And ShinRa is wrong about some things, too."_

_Tseng nodded, still not looking at him. "It took a lot of nerve for you to even say that, when you know it could get you killed. But I appreciate your honesty, so I'll be honest with you too. I have my own reason for following Avalanche, and it has little to do with ShinRa's best interests. There's a girl." He tensed up as he said the words. "It's not what you're probably thinking. I've known her since she was a child."_

_"The Ancient?" he asked. "Gainsborough?"_

_"Right. Aerith. She's...she's very naive. She has no idea what she's getting involved in. ShinRa is searching for a vitally important artifact that will open the door to the Temple of the Ancients. I'm about to send Reno, Rude and Elena searching for it. Avalanche will no doubt be searching for it as well." Tseng's hands clenched into fists at his sides, then relaxed. "Cloud Strife must not be allowed to get into that Temple. I can't tell you why, other than that it could be very destructive if he did. It could potentially get Aerith killed. It could also get the rest of Avalanche killed. Believe me when I tell you that those are the two least harmful things that might happen. In fact, if this artifact fell into the wrong hands... Let me just say that Strife's hands are the wrong ones. He's a very dangerous person."_

_Reeve tried to put it all together in his mind. The six pack he had shared with Reno wasn't helping him very much. "So you don't want Cloud Strife to get the keystone?"_

_Tseng turned around briskly, frowning at him. "I didn't mention the keystone to you, Reeve," he said. _

_Reeve tensed. _You dumbass_, he told himself. But he was beginning to understand Tseng a little bit; to understand that he appreciated a good mind. Instead of clamming up, he gave him a broad smile, and shrugged. "I guess you're not the only one who knows how to find out details like that," he said._

_To Reeve's great relief, Tseng smiled back, and even bowed slightly. "Forgive me for having underestimated you," he said. "You have to keep on your toes in this corporation. You have to mind everyone else's business._

_Or you end up like our old president."_

_"Hmm," Reeve said noncommittally, even though he felt his skin prickle over Tseng's blithe dismissal of the late president. "So what is it that you think I can do for you?" he asked._

_"I'm not entirely sure yet," Tseng admitted. "I didn't have a solid plan in mind. Something just told me you were the person to come to; maybe it's my intuition, but it felt important. You're quiet and you mostly keep to yourself. You don't let people in on your secrets."_

_Reeve considered everything Tseng was telling him. It certainly was a charming little speech, and flattering as well. More importantly, it made sense in strange way. Tseng seemed sincere._

_"I can't do it," he was surprised to hear himself say. He was so stunned at his own reply that he felt his jaw drop for a moment, then he composed himself, and went on autopilot. "I'm the wrong person to ask. I'm not a spy; it's just not something I'm highly trained for. Plus..." He faltered, and looked away from Tseng._

_Tseng leaned over Reeve, with both palms placed on the desk in front of him. "Morals?" he asked, with a chilly smile._

_Reeve looked up at him again. "Yes," he said. "I know I'm not necessarily in a position to talk about morals but, I just don't think I could do this."_

_Tseng nodded, and backed away slightly. "Do you want out, Reeve?" he asked._

_It didn't sound like a threat, but you could never tell, especially with the Turks. _

_He had said "no" once, and sat back quietly while Sector Seven was crushed. Perhaps he was even more at fault than Reno after all._

_"Yes," he found himself saying to Tseng, in a choked whisper. _God help me,_ he thought, _I want out of ShinRa. God help me._ He cleared his throat, which was suddenly very dry. "Yes," he repeated, with a little more confidence._

_Tseng was still leaning over him, that chilly smile on his pale, smooth features making Reeve edgy enough to want to jump out the window. "Me too," Tseng finally said, just as quietly._

_It wasn't until a few weeks later that Reeve decided that Tseng was sincere. The fact that Tseng hadn't had him killed, or even reported their conversation, was enough to convince him. He was still thinking over what Tseng had asked him to do._

_He'd been leaving the little Cait Sith robot at home, because he'd been thinking that, if he did do as Tseng had suggested-not to say he would, of course, but if he did-it might have something to do with that little Cait Sith thing._

_Cait Sith had become something of an obsession for Reeve over those weeks, as he used his work on it to distract him from everything else. When he was building and programming it, he didn't think so much about Scarlet having him followed. _

_He's also firmly decided upon an Artificial Intelligence program chip, and installed it._

_It was a warm, balmy night when Reeve opened his own front door after a particularly tense day in ShinRa, to find the little cat robot in front of the TV._

_"REEEEVE!" it squeaked as he opened the door._

_Reeve almost jumped out of his socks. Goddamn robot cat had just screamed at him. It ran for him. He flinched back against his door, and it wrapped its arms around his leg. _

_"You're home! Hey, I've just been waitin' around your little ole' house for you to come home," it said._

_Reeve was seriously creeped out, and a little confused as well. "Little ole' house?" He didn't speak like that, so where could his AI robot have learned that sort of talk? Then he realized that the computer chip mind had been tuned into the TV all day. God only knew what it picked up from there. In a way, he thought, it was a good thing. Cait Sith sounded nothing like him._

_The next day, he'd made up his mind. Cait Sith was programmed to talk and act on his own, but Reeve could also speak, watch and listen through him if he had to. And neither Reeve nor his computer cat counterpart would actually have to harm Avalanche. The mission was to save Cloud Strife from himself, and to make sure that the Black Materia never got to either him or Sephiroth. To at least make sure that the Turks got the keystone before Avalanche did._

_Tseng had also promised him that if he would help the Turks, he'd get Scarlet off his back as well._

_And back then, only two people knew of Project Cait Sith._

_Just him..._

_...and Tseng..._

_-_

_..."Project Cait Sith has to die with me."_

_"You're not going to die. Tseng, it's me, Reeve."_

_Tseng laughed weakly, coughing up blood. "You look like a robot cat on a stuffed Mog. Just let me go, Reeve."_

_"No."_

_He'd cast Cure3, over and over._

_"Don't let Sephiroth get the Black Materia," Tseng whispered. "Keep it from Sephiroth at all costs. Even if it means giving it to Avalanche. Avalanche over Sephiroth, when faced with the choice." _

_"What are you going to do?"_

_"I have to stop Aerith. I need you to look after Elmyra and Marlene... ShinRa doesn't know how to treat..." _

_More coughing._

_"I hear you, Tseng. I'll do what I can," Reeve said, to stop him from trying to talk so much._

_"And Reeve, when Rufus asks..."_

_Long pause. Reeve knew what was coming next._

_"I'm dead."_

_And Tseng had gone. Tseng was out. Out of ShinRa, at least. _

_And then the Temple of the Ancients... Black Materia... Cloud Strife, Sleeping Forest and then..._

_-_

Reeve went from memories to outright hallucination, as he remembered the gruesome scene in the Forgotten Capital. Except that in this hallucination, he was Aerith; he had somehow taken her place. Yes, he could feel the blade pierce his back, he could feel Sephiroth pull the blade out of his back, hard and swift... Hot damn, that hurt. But the pain faded quickly. He supposed he was dying, as Aerith had died, but was too weak to feel scared. He only felt a little sad.

Then, his true memory of the Forgotten Capital returned, and Aerith was Aerith again, and...

_...he saw and heard through the eyes and ears of Cait Sith. God, how he wished he could forget. That little girl, falling into Strife's arms, dead before he even caught her. Damnit, she had been praying. Praying, of all things._

_"Life," he could hear Cloud whispering as he held her. "Life, Life, Life... Life..." _

_But the magic was gone and it was too late anyway. _

_He wanted to forget the look on her face, even more than he wished to forget Sector Seven. He wanted to forget Strife's grating sobs, the tears on Tifa Lockheart's face, the silent, subtle prayer Cid Highwind had whispered. Nanaki's mournful howl, Barret Wallace's anger, Vincent Valentine's resigned sigh. And tiny little Yuffie Kisaragi, who hadn't a care in the world before then other than Materia, falling into Cloud Strife's arms, sobbing. Strife, too stunned and numb to do anything other than let Yuffie cling to him._

_He knew it would never go away._

_He'd been in the guestroom that night, as Elmyra Gainsborough slept fitfully in the next room. He'd let Cait Sith go automatic for a few moments. _

_-_

The pain came and went quickly, like flashes of hot and cold. With it came more images-memories that were twisted in with some terrifically bizarre hallucinations. One of them was from a dream he'd had back when Cait Sith had been completed.

_The little robot approached him slowly in the dark. Reeve couldn't see it, since its fur was black and the room was too dimly lit, wherever the hell he was. But he could hear its soft, slow footsteps drawing closer to him. The room was stiflingly hot. He saw Cait Sith's big stuffed Mog in the corner; it stood out because it was white. It stared blankly at him and didn't move._

_He was filled with a terrible sense of dread; this was not his clever little invention. This was something else. This was something sentient... inhabited._

_He felt movement beside him as he crouched against the wall. _

_"Please," Cait Sith said in a catlike hiss, "let me hurt someone."_

_Reeve pushed it away and it lashed out at his hand with its fangs._

_Suddenly old man ShinRa stood over him. Towered over him. _

Stand up to him, you coward_, Reeve told himself. But he found he couldn't move._

_"You want out, Reeve?" ShinRa asked in the darkness._

Tell him yes,_ Reeve thought. _Tell him yes you want out, goddamnit yes, a thousand times, yes!

_He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, and he couldn't get a deep breath. _YES!_ he tried to scream once more. Still nothing. If he could have screamed in frustration, he would have done so._

_In the far corner of the room, Cait Sith sat once again atop that _

_stupid Mog, holding a little black remote control. As they advanced closer, Reeve saw that there was writing on the control. "Speak," was written under one controller. "Breathe," read another. "Move," "Fight," "Magic." And the last one, the one over which Cait Sith's little gloved hand was poised, read "Die."_

_Cait Sith came closer. As he pressed the button, Reeve saw that his eyes were bright, glowing green._

_-_

Returning to consciousness, with a thrill of fear, Reeve realized that Sephiroth was crouching over him, looking into his eyes.

Well, even if his luck was bad, at least it was consistent.

Suddenly everything came back to him: his meeting with the Turks, the news of Sephiroth's return, their mission, and his being in NeoMidgar when it suddenly fell on him.

And now NeoMidgar was in pieces all around him, again for godsake, and he didn't have to wonder who was responsible.

It pissed him off. Sephiroth had killed Aerith and a thousand other

people. He'd been responsible for the deaths of children. He was a mass murderer, he was ShinRa at its worst and gone hideously insane as well, and he had absolutely no right coming back after Strife had finished him off.

In his sudden fury, Reeve grabbed hold of the first thing his hand touched, which happened to be the heavy shaft of metal that had gone through him. He was vaguely aware that it was warm, and covered in the stickiness that only came with blood, and he swung it with what strength he could muster.

It didn't matter that it had only grazed the monster that had returned and found him. It didn't matter that Sephiroth was probably going to kill him. He'd had enough. Waking up with his city crumbled beneath him and his internal organs skewered, with that madman staring down at him as if he was the most interesting find on the Planet, was enough to push him to his limit.

Sephiroth, however, was standing up once more, and had the nerve to not show any sort of surprise, which infuriated Reeve even more. He stood up to face Sephiroth, paying no mind to the fact that his sudden movement had reopened the wound that went all the way through his body. He raised the metal shaft again and prepared to lunge at Sephiroth.

However, with a small wave of his hand, Sephiroth sent Reeve's weapon sailing out of his grip.

Reeve, not only having reached his limit, but also his Limit Break, felt a surge of power. He barely noticed that every movement he made caused more blood to spill out of him. With a low, feral growl that he would have more expected to hear come from Cloud Strife than from himself, he ran towards Sephiroth and tackled him.

**-**

Sephiroth

_-_

"You idiot!" Sephiroth grunted, prying Reeve's fingers from his neck. "What the hell are you doing?" He had half expected that metal bar to come swinging towards him, just by the look on the other man's face, but he had honestly been surprised by the ferocity of this attack. In fact he'd actually taken a few hits, and he could sense that this attack wasn't caused by status materia induced confusion either. He wondered what in the wide Planet could have changed enough to make Reeve, of all people, lose his reason.

He easily pushed Reeve off of him once he overcame his surprise, and rolled out of the way. But Reeve was still coming at him. Reeve, however, had used up his Limit Break and was now just fighting out of whatever insanity drove him. He ran towards Sephiroth, who easily sidestepped him. Sephiroth hooked him around the shoulders, turned him around, and snaked one arm around his neck, nearly lifting him off the ground. Reeve's back was to him, and Sephiroth could feel the blood running out of him; all the fight in him seemed to go with it.

"What's going on, Reeve?" he said quietly.

"Bastard," Reeve managed to choke out.

"What?" Sephiroth eased his grip slightly.

"Goddamned crazy motherloving bastard..."

Sephiroth took a moment to consider those things. Goddamned. Yes, most likely. Crazy? Some people had thought so. Bastard. Well yes, in the truest sense of the word, and probably figuratively as well. Again, some people had thought so. Motherloving? That was a new one, and the randomness of it confirmed that Reeve was completely out of his mind.

Sephiroth chose his next words carefully.

"I want to make sure you're listening to me, Reeve," he said, "because I'm only going to say this once." There was no reply, but he was sure he had the other man's attention. "I have been in the Lifestream for some time now. Unfortunately I've been called back to this godforsaken rotting Planet and I seem to have come at a bad time. You're hurt pretty badly, and I can probably help you. But you'll have to tell me what's going on, because I don't remember much. I'm under the impression that I did something you objected to, but this isn't going to help. Now..." he said, letting his hand creep up to Reeve's throat, "you can tell me what I need to know, which would be beneficial to both of us, or you can continue to fight. But I promise you, no matter what is driving you to this, you can't beat me; there has never been anyone who could, and unless by some miracle you've become the strongest warrior on the Planet, you're going to be hurt worse than you already are. I don't want to have to hurt you, but I won't hesitate to." He gave him a moment to let that sink in. "Do you understand that?"

He never got an answer, as Reeve had decided against consciousness once more. Sephiroth let him slip to the ground, disgusted with the entire situation.


	8. chapter eight

_Aloha hou!_

_Time for a relatively short update of Cities of Poison. I could have posted more, I think, but the next two chapters are majorly long, and will probably take some patience, or at least a solid chunk of time sitting in front of the computer to read. (And for me to edit. ;D )_

_But first, since this story is so long, how about a quick "The Story So Far" interlude? Works for me. **The Story So Far**:_

_Ten years after Meteor, Reno has been living in NeoMidgar, seemingly going batty as he stuns himself with his own nightstick. He is surprised to remember that he's done this before. Just after that, Sephiroth busts down his door, stalks him around his shabby apartment, demands to know where Cloud Strife is, and then leaves. Reno is like, "What the hell was that?" _

_In Junon, Reeve is approached by a businessman named Bradburn who wants him to locate the remaining Turks so that his company can hire them for a mission. Reeve is like, "And who the hell are you?"_

_Afraid and out of money, Reno finally manages to get himself to Costa Del Sol in his search for Rude. There he finds both Elena and Rude, and tells them that Sephiroth has returned him and chased him out of town. That night, Reno fries himself again. Elena and Rude find him, but it is Sephiroth who comes in to save Reno's life. Rude and Elena are like, "What the hell was that?" _

_The next night, Reeve finds all three Turks together and tells them about the project. They agree to look into it. They elect Elena as both leader and field commander, and Reeve tells them that Tseng might still be alive. The Turks are all like, "What the hell?"_

_The mission ends up being the destruction of a cloning facility that is supposedly underneath a deserted part of the Northern Continent. The Turks are briefed, shuttled to their destination, given bombs, and told to get to work. During their mission, the Turks find hundreds of cloned bodies, including clones of both Tseng and Rude. The Turks are all like, "Goddamn! What the hell is this!" Disgusted by the fact that ShinRa is still alive and is continuing Hojo's dirty work, the Turks carry out their mission. _

_As they are escaping, they discover that they had not, in fact, been travelling to the Northern Continent, but to NeoMidgar. They've already planted the bombs, though, and parts of NeoMidgar are destroyed as the cloning facility blows up beneath the city. The Turks are like, "What the hell have we done!"_

_The Turks are then captured by Scarlet, who has set the entire thing up by tricking both Reeve and the Turks. She wanted the cloning facility blown up and has gotten her wish, and now plans to frame the Turks for the conspiracy. She also plans to execute Reno on live television. The executioner is none other than Tseng. Not a clone, but the original Tseng, who, it seems, has been working with Scarlet these many years. Reno is like, "Tseng! What the hell!" At the last minute, he is rescued by Elena and Rude. Elena has injured Tseng, and they take him along as a prisoner._

_Meanwhile, Reeve was in NeoMidgar when the bombs went off. He wakes up to find himself stuck beneath a slab of concrete, with a piece of metal pinioning him to the ground. (I guess it's like a piece of a street sign post or something. Ouch.) Reeve is like, "Damn! What the hell!" He has all these weird hallucinations and flashbacks._

_Sephiroth has remembered waking up in a cloning facility, where, apparently, his body has been cloned, and his spirit or whatever anyone wants to call it has returned to said body. He has been quietly following the Turks, trying to get a feel for the world he is in and the changes around him, and trying to find clues to where Cloud Strife is these days. He witnessed the explosions, guessed that it had to do with the Turks, and decided to take a look around the ruins. In the midst of the ruins, he finds Reeve, under a slab of concrete, pinioned to the ground by said metal thing. Sephiroth frees him, tries to heal him, and then is surprised when Reeve freaks out and tries to attack him. Sephiroth is like, "Dude, what the hell!"_

_That's about it so far._

_In this update, we come to one of the scenes that I had a great amount of fun writing: Elena and Tseng on the pavement. I had such a blast with that scene. Go figure._

_Also, we get into Scarlet's head a little bit, and that's always fun for me._

_

* * *

_

_ShinRa_

"Gyah hahahaha!"

"Oh, shut up," Scarlet said. "Just tell me what you came to tell me."

Heidegger gave her a sour look and turned away. "Maybe I'll just let you hear it on the news then," he said.

"Heidegger!" Scarlet snapped. He turned back. She sighed, the closest to conciliatory she was willing to get. "Just tell me."

Heidegger had lost some of the joy of telling her his news, and took on a professional tone of voice. "Fine," he said. "This actually hasn't made the news yet, but it will soon. Someone saw Reeve."

Scarlet felt her lips drawing back into a smile. She almost knew what was coming, but didn't dare to believe it yet.

"It's not one hundred percent certain yet, but he was last spotted in NeoMidgar. Some kid who managed to survive the blast said he was talking with him. I'm not sure how much of it we can believe. He said Reeve was at a stupid arcade playing video games about two minutes before the final blast."

Scarlet let herself smile fully. "Sounds like Reeve," she said. "Kyah haha! Stupid, naive Reeve, acting all noble in NeoMidgar and getting himself blown up! Do you think he could have survived?"

Heidegger shrugged. "Anything's possible," he said. "The kid who says he saw him survived, so Reeve might've too."

"But then where is he?" Scarlet said, more to herself than to Heidegger. "No," she decided, with a shake of her head. "No, Reeve would be running around trying to rebuild that sewer of a city already. He's either dead or something else happened. He wouldn'the_ couldn't _stay away this long without a word to his wonderful paradise."

"And the Turks?" Heidegger asked. His eyes betrayed slight amusement that Scarlet's prisoners had gotten away from her. He counted it as one of her failings, which she was sure he thrilled in. Also, he seemed to still be slightly hung up on the Turks. He had owned them for years, and seemed to think of them as pets. He had always been hard and aggressive with them, and occasionally cruel, but she'd be damned if he didn't have just a little bit of affection for them too.

"I don't know where they are, and I haven't heard from Tseng," Scarlet said. "I can't imagine that they killed him. Not with Elena around."

"Tseng was her weak point," Heidegger said, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Emotions in general. I doubt she would get past it, even after all these years. It's a handicap, very hard to overcome. It's possible that Tseng killed them," he said, with the vaguest hint of regret in his voice.

"Let's hope," she said.

Heidegger nodded curtly, and turned to leave the room.

Scarlet sat back behind her desk in the new ShinRa building in Junon. Where _had _the Turks gone? They did know how to make an exit. Even though she had lost to them (temporarily, she reminded herself,) it almost reminded her of the old glory days of ShinRa, and she felt a touch of regret and nostalgia. She always did, when reminded of the fact that it would never be the same. They had all been so young, so aggressive, so sharp and powerful. Even Reeve, stupid, naive Reeve had served his purpose in ShinRa, and no matter how he later tried to deny it, he'd been a great asset to the corporation. She always thought it was a shame that a seemingly smart man like Reeve had gone soft, but even though Reeve was a traitor to ShinRa, with his stupid electric cat, she had to admit, he did have guts.

They had parted on really bad terms too, but...he hadn't always been so terrible to her. In the beginning, he seemed to actually like her a lot. At least a lot more than some men did.

She'd thought for a while that he did actually see the real her better than most men; men who took one look at her and decided she wasn't worth more than ten minutes in the ShinRa parking lot. In reality, she wasn't anything at all like what they thought of her. She'd never admit it though; admitting it would be like admitting that she cared what they thought. In truth, there had only ever been Reeve, Rude, Reno, and...

And of course, the latter day Crisis of the Planet himself, SOLDIER's most notorious General. She could remember how he felt, how his skin had been bizarrely soft on the very rare occasions she had touched himshe didn't think she'd ever seen him nakedas it kept repairing itself from the inside out. She shuddered and reminded herself once more that she'd had no way of knowing that the mysterious, overwhelmingly fascinating ShinRa General would go all catastrophic on the Planet.

And, of late, there had been Tseng, as well. She wasn't sure if that counted, though. Tseng wasn't quite himself these days.

Reeve, Reno, Rude, Sephiroth, Tseng... Scarlet giggled. At least she had kept it in one section of the alphabet. Most people thought she'd gone through it forwards and backwards twice.

Rufus... Everyone in the world seemed to believe that she'd slept with Rufus. She and Rufus, it seemed, were the only ones who knew differently.

Scarlet halfheartedly wished that Hojo's obsession had been with time travel instead of Cetra and cloning. She would go back in time and tell Rufus how much she admired him. How much she admired his ambition, his cunning, and his passion for the things he believed in. Then she would kiss him, very chastely on the lips, and tell him to leave when WEAPON came, just get the holy hell out of the building no matter what. She would put her hand on his face, just to touch the reality of him. The kiss was more important, she thought. Maybe it would tell him everything.

No, she would never, ever allow anyone to clone him. Reno had hit an exposed nerve by suggesting that, but she'd hidden her reaction very well from him. Sure, they could clone Rufus. They could clone a thousand of him. But she knew to the marrow of her bones that he would never truly come back. They could clone his body, but not his excellent mind, his... heart, she admitted to herself. His soul. She had heard of a dead person's essence returning to their cloned bodiesfor what reason, she'd never guessbut Rufus would never do such a thing. She knew him better than that. He was a stubborn bastard to the last.

She had promised herself after that awful day of his death that she would do whatever was in her power to bring ShinRa back, and to do it the way Rufus would want it done. The new ShinRa was still fragile, but when it grew strong, she'd take matters more out of Heidegger's hands and into her own. Heidegger wanted ShinRa back, seemingly as badly as she did. But she didn't think...no, she_ knew _that he didn't understand Rufus the way she did.

Scarlet wiped her eyes hastily on her sleeve and proceeded with the next step of her plan: she waited.

_The Turks_

Elena gripped the steering wheel until her short nails dug into her palms. Angry. Yes, she was angry for having been set up and used once more by ShinRa. Frightened of what would happen when they had to confront Tseng. Terribly curious about why Tseng was working with Scarlet. Still panicking (though controlling it very well, she thought,) about having seen Sephiroth, and the circumstances that surrounded it. It certainly had been a very full few days.

But most of all she just hated herself for having let it happen. She ground her teeth, reminded herself to stop, and sighed again.

"Stop it, Elena," Reno said tiredly from the back of the van. He was leaning against one side of the back, Rude against the other, and Tseng, still for some reason unconscious, lay bound between them. Reno and Rude had taken his weapons and handcuffed him, in the likely event that he would not be entirely coherent when he awoke.

"Stop what?" she asked him irritably.

"Stop stressing. We all would have done the same thing."

She almost turned around to face him, then realized she should watch the road instead. "Reno, will you just get the hell off my back about Tseng?" she snapped.

She could feel him staring at her. "It's not about Tseng," he said. "Look, I know you're stressing because you think this is all somehow your fault..."

"It _is_ my fault, Reno," she said, trying to control he volume of her voice. "I got elected leader and field commander, and I accepted this stupid mission without looking into it first."

"We all did," he said, in a milder tone of voice.

"No: _I_ did. Jesus, Reno! When I took on this responsibility, I knew that the good came with the bad. I'm not going to spread the blame all around because it didn't go well. You guys let me have this responsibility, now let me keep it. Stop treating me like a stupid kid!"

Reno sighed, exasperated. "Fine," he said. "That's just fine, Elena, but I want you to think about this, too: if this mission had been the most kickass, million dollar, savior-of-the-Planet mission, would you have taken all the credit for that, too? Or would you just have to admit for once in your goddamn career that we're in this together?"

She gripped the steering wheel harder and chewed the insides of her mouth, wishing Reno would just shut the hell up, especially when he said infuriating things that made sense, and _especially_ when he had wanted, from the beginning, to leave her out entirely. She hated how happy she was that he had said that. She heard him sit back against the van again in a gratingly self satisfied way.

A few minutes went by in total silence. Then a few more. Then Elena felt the barrel of a gun against her neck. She recognized it right away. It was something you could feel once in your life and then never forget. But she didn't swerve off the road or panic visibly. _Okay,_ she told herself... _Okay...Now what?_ But that was as far as she got.

"Turn down that corner and stop," Tseng said in her ear, in a raw whisper.

She nodded, turned down an alley, and stopped the car.

"Put your hands up," he said.

"Yes, sir," she answered, prying her tense fingers off the steering wheel. _Wow,_ she thought, strangely calm. _He's still so fast. And so quiet_.

"Now turn around and come back here," he told her.

Elena felt cold sweat break out on her body, and the true panic began. Now she would have to face Tseng after all these years, to see him, to see what he had become. To finally hear what had kept him from coming back, and what had kept him at Scarlet's side. The thought of it was almost as terrifying as the fact that he had a gun pointed at her head.

She turned around slowly, as he had asked, and caught sight of both

Reno and Rude lying unconsciousor at least she hoped they were just unconsciouswhere they had been sitting a moment ago. She would have to deal with that after dealing with Tseng; there was no way around it. He backed up to the back of the van, pushed open the doors and climbed out, motioning for her to follow him. As she stepped out the back, she hesitantly forced her eyes to look up at his face.

It certainly was Tseng. But then again, it wasn't. It wasn't clearheaded, cool Tseng who had always given the Turks their orders. It wasn't driven, passionate Tseng who had brought the elite fighting force known as the Turks back from ruin by choosing the recruits himself. It wasn't noble Tseng, who had let the Ancient walk away that day in the Mythril mines with a warning to stay out of ShinRa's way, completely overriding his orders from the President. Or brilliant, calculating Tseng who had told Elena to pretend to let their orders slip in front of Avalanche that same day.

Then there was the matter of his eyes, which were glowing so fiercely green that she would have seen him a mile away.

But it definitely was Tseng, and he had disarmed and knocked out two Turks without even alarming the third, and freed himself from the handcuffs. His long black hair was still as black as ever, she noted, when even Reno had a bit of grey. _And Reno's, what, thirty three?_ she asked herself frantically. _That makes Tseng forty three. Which would mean..._

"Who are you?" Tseng asked, making her jump slightly.

It was the question that she'd been most afraid to hear, and the one she had no way of answering gracefully. "Sir," she said quietly. "It's me. Elena." She searched his eyes and almost saw the tiniest flicker of recognition in them. His eyes darted to Reno and Rude behind her, then back to her face. "Tseng, sir, what did you...?"

"Shut up," he hissed. "Let me think."

She nodded mutely, turned her head slowly, and glanced at Rude and Reno to see if they were breathing. She let out a small sigh of relief to see that they both were. God. He hadn't made a sound.

"What do you want with me, Elena?" he asked, as if he still didn't quite recognize the name.

_Oh Christ_, Elena thought. _If he'd asked me that years ago, would he ever have been surprised._

"For you to remember us," she found herself saying. It shocked her. She hadn't even realized she'd thought of it. "Tseng, sir," she said, and let her arms relax as she took a step closer to him.

He flicked the gun in her direction and backed up. Elena recognized the gun as Rude's.

She put her hands up again and wished that either Reno or Rude would be able to help her do what she had to do. But they could be hurt badly for all she knew.

"I don't know why you people took me, and I should kill you for that. I don't know why I haven't, and that disturbs me; but at the very least, I won't let you follow me."

Elena saw him move his hand, and realized in a second that he had also taken either Reno's or Rude's materia. He tried to cast Sleep on her, or maybe it was Stop; she couldn't tell, because she dodged quickly enough to make him mis-time his casting.

When he saw that he had missed her and she was moving quickly toward him, he fired the gun. The bullet punched a hole in the door of the van, just missing Elena as she launched herself at him.

_He fired! He opened fire on me! He really did it!_ It was the only thing she was thinking of as she landed on top of him and they both went down to the pavement.

Tseng took a swing at her face and she leaned back. She felt his knuckles graze her face. He had pulled that punch at the last second, and she knew it. Tseng probably didn't know why he'd done so. She swung back and made solid contact with his jaw, while she tried in vain with her other hand to pin his wrist, and at least get the gun from him.

He was faster, as he had always been, and much stronger, but he was also somewhat debilitated, and that gave her something to work with. Also, he had trained her, and she knew his style. She remembered him better than he remembered himself. And he didn't remember her at all, so it was likely that he didn't realize she could predict his moves.

He grabbed both her wrists in his one hand and tried to roll her off of him, but at the same moment had also decided to raise the gun. Both of these options made him lose a bit of his concentration on either task, and she managed to free one hand and swat the gun out of his hand.

As he looked away to take note of where the gun had landed, she took the opportunity to roll off of him and grab the gun herself.

Tseng saw immediately what she was doing, and Elena scurried backwards as he ran after her; and this time it was him launching himself at her. Elena saw streaks of light dance in her eyes as her head hit the concrete, and he pinned her wrist, trying to pry the gun out of her hand. She knew it wouldn't take him very long to get it back from her.

"Tseng, sir!" she called out suddenly, in her sharpest voice.

Straddling her on his knees, he wrenched the gun away from her hand and aimed it at her face. With his other hand, he again grabbed both her wrists. "Why are you calling me 'sir?'" he asked. He didn't sound out of breath at all.

"Because you're my boss, sir," she said. "Because I'm a Turk and you're Tseng of the Turks. And in that van are Rude and Reno of the Turks." She saw that he was listening, and she'd at least bought herself some time. She knew she had to continue to hold his interest, or at least his curiosity. "I don't know how much you remember, but the last time I saw you was in the Temple of the Ancients. We went after the Keystone. Sephiroth attacked you. Cait Sith saved you. Avalanche got the Keystone and the Black Materia." She took a deep breath. This was going to be the hardest part, but there was a good chance that it would stun him out of whatever kind of confusion held him. "You disappeared after that and Avalanche went to the Forgotten Capital. Aerith was killed."

He sat back and his grip on her wrists loosened, and finally his hand fell away. She saw him mouth the word "Aerith" as he thought it over.

"Sephiroth killed her," she went on quietly. "After he summoned Meteor." He still held the gun pointed at her, but didn't seem to be paying attention to it. She took a chance and propped herself up on her elbows. "Then ShinRa fell, and the Turks disbanded. Avalanche managed to stop Meteor, but we, that is, the Turks, thought you were dead. Tseng, you never..."

"Stop it," he said harshly. "ThatBecause none of that happened. ShinRa is alive...alive in Scarlet and Heidegger." His eyes glazed over and he seemed to be staring at some tiny point in the distance. "ShinRa is alive," he repeated.

"Yes," she said, brushing her hair away from her face tiredly. "ShinRa is alive. But the president and Rufus are both dead. Sephiroth killed the president. Rufus was killed by Diamond WEAPON."

"No, ShinRa is alive in Scarlet and Heidegger," he said, still not looking at her. "You're wrong. ShinRa is alive."

Elena felt herself become truly afraid. It was as if Tseng had left,

and had been replaced by something automatic...automated. As if someone had pulled a string to make him talk. She'd had him for a second there, too, when she mentioned Aerith. But at the mention of ShinRa, it was as if Tseng had shut down. "What the hell?" she whispered to herself, as he stared.

Suddenly, Tseng slumped over and closed his eyes. And just as suddenly, he fell forward onto her, totally limp and perfectly still. She managed to shield her face so that he didn't break her nose or bust her lip.

He outweighed her considerably, and suddenly her arms felt like water balloons. When she managed to look over his shoulder, she saw that Reno was switching off his Electro-Mag rod as he climbed out of the back of the van. Elena realized that he had probably put Rude's Stop Materia in the EMr. He was gingerly rubbing the back of his head as he made his way to her.

"Don't like to waste time, do you Elena?" Reno joked. "Damn, Tseng's not back a day and already you're trying to roll around with him."

"Shut up!" she squealed, hating herself for squealing. "Get him off me!"

"Elena's changed," Rude deadpanned.

She fought the urge to shriek again, this time in outrage, and shoved Tseng with all her might. "You assholes!" she yelled, as Tseng fell away to her side. "He was trying to kill me!"

"Lighten up," Reno said. "You're both alive and Tseng's with us."

He held out his hand to help her up, and she dusted herself off wordlessly.

"Did I mention," Reno said, glancing at Tseng, "that this really sucks?"

"I think you did, once or twice," Elena said.

"Yeah, once or twice a second," Rude said, as he climbed from the back of the truck. "But damn. You're right."

"You see his eyes?" Reno said. "Holy shit."

"Yeah," Elena agreed, and decided to deal with it later. "So did you guys catch any of that?" She rubbed the back of her head. There was going to be one bitch of a lump there. Her eyes were still watering.

"Just that weird crap about ShinRa being alive," Reno said. "What the hell was that all about? It was like he shorted out."

"Yeah," Elena sighed, looking down at Tseng. She knew the Stop materia would only last so long, and then they'd have to resort to more extreme measures of restraint. She hated to do such a thing to her boss, to her superior. But they had to be careful. "I want some answers," she said.

"Yeah. Elena, you know what? We need to start at the beginning. This whole mission started with Reeve. He's got to know of something we missed. Something about Bradburn. Scarlet told me that Reeve didn't know she was in on it, and I'm inclined to believe her. But in light of the new, uh, developments, Reeve might be able to figure something out in hindsight. If we can find him, that is."

"Yeah, but we need to rest," she said.

Reno nodded. "How far did we go?" he asked, rubbing his head again. "Where's the nearest town?"

"We didn't go very far from when I last spoke to you; you weren't out for long. We're closest to Cosmo Canyon."

"Hmm," Rude said. "You think we're welcome there?"

"We don't have too much of a choice," Elena said.


	9. chapter nine

_This is where it gets just a bit controversial. I know I'm not the only one out there toying with the idea that Jenova was behind everything and that Sephiroth was only a puppet the whole time, but from what I understand, this idea has caused a handful of silly flamewars out there. I don't follow the fandom in terms of going to newsgroups or bulletin boards or anything; I just look at fanart and read the occasinal fic, so I don't keep up on this stuff. But, this happens to be one of the fics that explores that idea. I'm not saying it's necessarily so, and no, I'm not tyring to whitewash Sephiroth because he's hot. (He's pixels, art at best; "hotness" doesn't enter into it. At the heart of the matter, he's a fascinating character in a fascinating story.) I'm not trying to whitewash him at allI tried to have Reeve make some really good points in this chapter about Sephiroth's behaviorI'm just trying to look at what Sephiroth might be if he were allowed to be human. _

_This might seem like a bit of a recap of the FF7 story, but I wanted to tell it from a different perspective, so I hope it's at least interesting. Also, I couldn't help referencing what I think is one of the most important lines in the entire game: when Cloud says to Hojo, _"_I can't believe you're the one who did this... This illusionary crime against Sephiroth."_

_I suppose it could be an odd translationgoodness knows there were loads of the in the gamebut it's still a meaningful line. Cloud is the only one in the entire game who has the compassion and perspective to acknowledge that Hojo is to blame, and that Sephiroth is just as much a victim of his crimes as anyone else._

_Another controversial subject, or so I'm told: How Reeve controls Cait Sith. Psionically? Through magic? Mechanically? I chose what seemed to me the most logical._

_And by the way, I am a HUGE Reeve fangirl. Reeve doesn't get enough fanart or fanfic, so I guess I tried to make up for it with huge sections devoted to him. ;)_

_So, onwards._

_

* * *

_

_Reeve and Sephiroth_

Reeve wondered for a moment if he was still buried underneath the rubble of NeoMidgar. It was beyond dark, and everything in his body hurt. Even places of which he hadn't been previously aware were making their presence known. He had rather hoped to meet them under better circumstances.

Reeve realized that he was thinking nonsense again, and that he had better concentrate on what was going on around him. Perhaps the whole thing had been a dream, but he felt so aware of everything that had happenedfrom going to his stupid little arcade to waking up under the gaze of the psychotic, mutant ShinRa generalthat dreaming didn't seem likely.

Sephiroth.

Reeve's eyes snapped open and he tried to sit up hastily, realized that he was lying face down, and felt his hand slip. He fell back down, hitting his nose on the ground. Blast. That had been possibly the one place that didn't hurt until just then.

He rolled over wearily onto his side. He knew that there was a slight chance that Sephiroth would have left for some reason, and it gave him a small window of opportunity to escape. But his body felt too tired to comply. _Ahh,_ he thought resignedly, _maybe I can reason with him._

The thought almost made him laugh aloud. In his mind, he heard Sephiroth's cold, empty voice telling Cloud Strife that Aerith was one with the Planet. _Reason._ No, there would never, ever be any reasoning with Sephiroth. Reeve remembered a time when Sephiroth had been... well, nearly human. He'd never been quite exact in his humanity, and he definitely was not the warmest, fuzziest person Reeve had met. But he'd had a sort of distant nobility, and a cool headed sense of honor. That was more than Reeve could say for the rest of ShinRa. But when Sephiroth had lost that, he had become devoid of any humanity. He was a killing machine. He'd become an entity of self serving vanity, greed and chaos. People didn't come back from something like that.

Reeve shuddered.

"Hey," a soft, yet clipped voice called.

Reeve opened his eyes. Sephiroth sat on the ground, wearing black pants, boots and an ill fitting white shirt that was way too big for him. Reeve wondered where he had gotten the clothes. It was strange seeing him without his SOLDIER First Class uniform. The oversized clothes seemed to make him slightly less menacing, but Reeve knew better than to be fooled.

Sephiroth nodded in his direction, acknowledging that he had Reeve's attention. "Can you get an airship?" he asked.

Reeve frowned and rolled onto his back. After everything that had happened, from the ill fated Nibelheim mission, to Sephiroth finding him nearly dead in NeoMidgar, the only thing Sephiroth could think to do was ask if Reeve could get an airship? He tried to pull his hand over his face and got it tangled up in some kind of heavy material. He pulled the material off of his body and looked at it. It was a heavy black cloak. He looked back at Sephiroth as if to ask where it had come from.

Sephiroth shrugged and carelessly flipped his long bangs out of his face. They fell right back into place. "You lost a lot of blood" he said. "You'll probably be all right, as long as you don't do anything too terribly stupid. Are you ready to talk to me?"

Reeve sighed and sat up. "Well what do you want to talk about?" he asked suspiciously, as Sephiroth had the nerve to make eye contact. How could he even look at another person, look as if nothing had happened? Reeve doubted that the Lifestream would erase his memory of what he had done. After all, Sephiroth had recognized him.

"Well," Sephiroth said, and the air of haughty superiority, Reeve noted, had never left his voice, "we could begin with what I don't seem to remember. Your reaction was less than welcoming, and so were those of the Turks when I found them. I have to admit, I don't remember why I... why I was in the Lifestream to begin with. So I'm curious. Was it a war? Something to do with ShinRa?"

Reeve stared at him, dumbfounded for a moment, before roughly pushing the cloak away from him as if it was the dirtiest thing he had ever touched. "How about that little 'Meteor' incident, for starters?" he asked. "Or even before that. Oh, let's see, _General_ Sephiroth," he said, his voice sneering with sarcasm. He knew he was pushing his luck, but he didn't care at this point. He was probably going to die anyway. "See if you can remember a woman...No, let me correct that: a girl, barely more than a child, named Aerith?" His anger made him forget his pain momentarily, and he stood up shakily.

Sephiroth didn't rise to meet him, but remained seated on the ground, staring at him. "Aerith," he whispered vaguely. He looked distant for a few moments. "Aerith. The Ancient?" Reeve didn't answer. "ShinRa wanted her for a very long time. But hadn't they given up on her? At least by the time Wutai..."

Sephiroth was staring into the distance again, while Reeve waited for him to remember. He knew that when he did, it was probably all over for him. And maybe for the Planet, as well, once Sephiroth remembered what he really wanted.

"What about her?" Sephiroth asked Reeve, suddenly snapping to the present.

Reeve sat down heavily on the ground once more and tiredly rubbed his face with both his hands. "Oh, I don't know," he said, his sarcasm growing weak as the memory brought back fresh sadness, "just that little thing with you brutally murdering her while she prayed." He looked up at Sephiroth, not caring that his eyes were probably already wet. "While she _prayed_." That detail was something that Reeve thought he would never get over. Just talking about it had ripped the scab off and started it flowing again.

Sephiroth stared back at him, lips parted slightly in surprise, his shining eyes wide. "Lies," he whispered. Reeve himself was too stunned to answer. "Lies. I would never... Listen to me, Reeve of ShinRa," he said, his voice turning cold and angry once more. Reeve flinched slightly. "I might be a lot of things. I know that I'm not the most genial person on the Planet. I know that I've done some things that were questionable, morally and otherwise. But I know myself, and I know that my honor _never_ came into quesWait a minute," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Did you see this happen with your own eyes?"

Reeve thought carefully about that. He hadn't seen it with his own eyes, exactly; he had seen it through Cait Sith's. But there was no question it had happened, and damn Sephiroth for even suggesting that. Reeve didn't want to give him that out. This wasn't a trial, this was real, it was true; it was beyond pointless loopholes in what people were pleased to think of as the law. "There were many witnesses," Reeve finally said. "I was only one of them."

"And there's no question that it was me?"

"Of course not. Sephiroth, don't have the absolute gall to try to make me think that what I _know_ happened..."

"Was ShinRa cloning at the time?"

Reeve was caught off guard again. Damnit, of course he would bring that up. And of course the bastard was right: It _had_ been a clone that had actually, physically done it. And he had to admit it. This time he looked into Sephiroth's eyes. "Yes," he said coldly, "it was a clone. There were hundreds. You controlled every single one of them. You said so. Jenova said so."

Sephiroth's eyes flickered for the smallest moment as the name caught him off guard. "Jenova," he said, as if a memory was trying to make its way into his mind. "Jenova was my mother. I've never even met her; she died as I was born. How could she have told anybody anything?"

"Jenova wasn't your mother, Lucrecia was. Jenova was a sick, disgusting project, experimented on by sick, disgusting scientists. Oh yeah, to this day Cloud will tell people that you were just the victim of this 'illusionary crime' as he puts it, that even though you 'turned' evilas if someone could just wake up evil one dayit was really all ShinRa's doing. But that's what Cloud has to tell himself, I guess. Everyone else knows that you had it in you the whole time, just waiting for a catalyst. That was Jenova."

Sephiroth had stood up, and was staring at him as he tried to

piece together the information that Reeve was firing at him. Only this time, he looked startled enough that Reeve thought he was beginning to remember. He went on, relentlessly, his own outrage making him helpless to stop.

"Jenova was supposed to be an Ancient, and that got you started on this 'I am The God' shit, but isn't it too funny, General Sephiroth, that the true Ancient was Aerith Gainsborough, and Jenova was just a slimy space virus who killed most of them off? And _that_ was what you had running in your veins after all, only I don't think you lived to find that out. So think about that when you kill me. Think about it when you're trying to demolish the Planet again. You're not an Ancient, you're not even a human, you're just a project, ShinRa's twisted Jenova project."

"Stop it!" Sephiroth said, and the effect of his voice on Reeve was like a slap in the face. He realized he hadn't even been watching Sephiroth's reaction, but he was now.

Sephiroth had clamped both hands over his ears, and quickly threaded them through his hair, and he was backing up. Reeve had never seen him show any weakness; that pleasure had been reserved for Cloud Strife. And rightly so, he thought. But Strife never seemed to take any pleasure in having watched him die. Reeve had always imagined that he himself would have. But watching Sephiroth now, he realized that his distress wasn't in any way satisfying. It was terrifying. He also realized, a little too late, he noted, that it was this exact discovery that had sent Sephiroth over the edge the first time around, and he had just been the one to start it all over.

"No, don't stop it," Sephiroth said, more softly. He wasn't looking at Reeve. "Say that again. The last part. Say it again."

Reeve faltered for a moment. "ShinRa's Jenova project," he said.

Sephiroth let both his hands drop, and for a tense moment, did nothing. Then he drew a deep breath and sat down again. He looked at Reeve. "The Nibelheim mission," he said. He struggled to come up with more memories. "With...Zack from Gongaga, my second in command. Zack, and..." He looked at Reeve again, asking silently for more information.

Reeve sat down once again. He realized that the only way to deal with this was through logic and facts. He would have to control his emotions and just tell him everything that he knew. Part of him wondered why in the world he would even help him remember. The other part told him that he just didn't have a choice. Sephiroth was going to do what he wanted, and there was only one man on the Planet who had a prayer of ever stopping him, and he was miles away. It would do no good to let Sephiroth try to figure everything out on his own.

"With Zack and Cloud Strife," he said. "And another soldier who died on the way. You were there to investigate a malfunctioning reactor. Your guide was a young girl named Tifa Lockheart."

Sephiroth flinched at the name, but waited silently for Reeve to go on.

"When you got there, you found some of ShinRa's mutants, monsters. And the Jenova Project. You put two and two together and realized that you were one of the projects too. Then you went back to the ShinRa mansion in Nibelheim and read all of Gast's and Hojo's books about Jenova and about yourself. But their studies were wrong, and Jenova wasn't an Ancient as they had thought. Of course, you didn't know that, you just went off your gourd and decided you had to go and find Jenova. On your way, Zack, Tifa and her father all tried to stop you. You killed Tifa's father. And you..."

"And I killed Zack. And...Tifa Lockheart," he said. He let his head drop into his hands. "Go on," he said in a muffled voice.

That wasn't exactly how it had happened, but Reeve didn't think there was time to get into the whole story about Zack's fate. Sephiroth had been responsible for Zack's initial capture, so that was enough for Reeve. He nodded, and calmly continued. "Strife followed you. Tifa was his friend. You ran him through too, but..."

"Wait," Sephiroth said, still not looking at Reeve. "Tifa Lockheart. Did I... did I kill her?"

Reeve closed his eyes in frustration. "No. She lived." He considered jumping ahead and telling him that Tifa was one of the group of people who had finally killed him, but he refrained. It was easier to tell the story chronologically. "You ran Strife through with your sword. Strife managed to not only live through it, but to throw you into the Lifestream as well. You weren't exactly dead, I guess, but you were in the Lifestream."

"And is that it?" Sephiroth asked, his voice sounding weary.

"No, that's hardly it. Your clones, the ones you controlled..."

Sephiroth's head jerked up sharply. "Clones that _I_ controlled?"

"You manipulated them, controlling them from the Lifestream. And you summoned Meteor. Aerith was praying for Holy in the Forgotten Capital, the only thing she knew would stop Meteor's impact. You got Strife to give you the Black Materia, and you came back from the Lifestream in your true form. You stopped Holy from moving to protect the Planet. Strife, Tifa, a group of others, they...They stopped you."

Sephiroth sat staring at Reeve, and for a few moments, he didn't say a word. Finally he sighed. "You're right. You are absolutely right that I did go on that Nibelheim mission and that there, I did lose myself. I killed the man who was possibly my only friend on the Planet. I tried to kill an innocent woman. I don't deny that. It's a vague memory, but it's there. But Strife did throw me into the Lifestream, and there I remained until I woke up in a laboratory most recently. I remember the Lifestream very well. There was no Jenova, and I didn't control any clones. And I did not come back from the Lifestream to fight against the Planet. I was in the Lifestream since Strife put me there the first time," he whispered vehemently. "I swear it."

After having stared at Sephiroth for about an hour, Reeve had to come to the unnerving conclusion that he was sleeping...with his eyes wide open. The idea that Sephiroth even slept was strange, yet he supposed even he had to. But watching him sleep with his eyes glowing into the otherwise black night was nightmare material waiting to happen. Sephiroth hadn't even blinked, unless he had done so every single time Reeve had, and that was unlikely. He wasn't even lying down; he was leaning against a tree trunk, just staring into the sky. A light breeze blew his long hair once in a while, but that was the only movement that Reeve noticed.

This was not something he could allow to dominate Strife and the others once more. He'd taken an almost passive role in Sephiroth's defeat the last time, since ShinRa had found him out and hauled him in. He'd be damned if he'd be passive about it again.

_Yes, you'd be damned,_ he told himself. _Literally._

Sephiroth had said he needed to find Cloud, and Avalanche had to be warned. Reeve had denied knowing where they were, but in truth, he knew exactly where they were.

He finally turned his eyes away from Sephiroth and curled up on the cold ground, tingling with the fear that the slightest noise would alert Sephiroth. With excruciating slowness, he reached down to his ankle and felt along the leg of his pants until he felt the familiar shape of a little remote control. His hand was shaking as he drew it out of its holder, as if it were a weapon he kept hidden there.

Once it was in his grip, he held perfectly still, trying to force his body to adopt the relaxed posture of sleep. He couldn't see Sephiroth, so for all he knew, he could be watching his every move. He tried to keep his breathing deep and even, and he even faked a slight sleepy movement to make it more convincing. The remote fit comfortably into his palm as he tried to make his hand look as if it naturally belonged somewhere by his leg. He then feigned a tired grunt as he brought his hand, and the remote, closer to his face. If Sephiroth was watching, he could simply pretend to have woken up. The eerie image of the ex General staring, unblinking, into the night, was imprinted on his eyes, and he didn't exactly want to look at him again. But he wanted to make certain that he was still asleep, or was still doing whatever passed for sleep, before he did what he was about to do. He turned his head back and looked at Sephiroth.

He hadn't moved. He still leaned motionless against the tree stump with an unfocused stare, one knee drawn up, the other leg outstretched, and both arms at his sides. He looked like some sort of creepy toy soldier that had been left propped there by a kid who'd finally gotten fed up with the nightmares it gave him. But then, Reeve had always been slightly obsessed with toys, and he dismissed these thoughts and concentrated on what he had to do.

He tucked his head back down and held onto the little black remote. It had begun to feel like a lifeline. Over the years it had almost served as a sort of security or comfort object. It was his link to Cait Sith and the people he was with. And right now, it was his only link to a world in which Sephiroth was not propped negligently against a tree stump, looking like an evil doll that might spring to life at any second and fix those cool green eyes on him.

Trying to press the remote closer to him, and checking that he had the volume on his side turned all way down, he slowly switched it on. Even the soft, barely audible click sounded loud to him. He wondered desperately if Sephiroth's hearing was as perfect as it had always been. He was obviously still Mako enhanced, so it was possible.

He thought it unlikely that many people in Cosmo Canyon were awake at this hour, so he would have to just keep on talking, in hopes that someone could hear him. He wouldn't be able to use the visuals to see where Cait Sith was going, since that would show light which might wake Sephiroth.

He wanted very badly to check once more to make sure that Sephiroth hadn't moved, but didn't dare look up at such a crucial moment. Not when he had the remote switched on in his hand. He once again forced his breathing to be deep and even, as if he was asleep, as he began to breathe words into the remote.

"Cait Sith," he breathed, in not even a whisper. It was no more than an exhaled breath with consonants in it, but he knew that the robot would decipher the words. "Don't answer me," he said, and paused as he took another breath. "Find someone."

Then he stopped, hoping that the Mog would carry the robot quickly to anyone in Avalanche. Or anyone in Cosmo Canyon that could tell anyone in Avalanche. Or anyone at all.

After a few minutes of nothing happening, the remote vibrated in his hand. It was Cait Sith's signal that he'd accomplished what he'd been asked. Reeve gripped the remote, trying to drown out the very soft hum it made.

The idea that Sephiroth could be silently watching all of his efforts made him want to scream. He waited a few moments, not moving, and hoping that Sephiroth was still creepily propped against the tree, staring at anything but him.

The remote vibrated again as Cait Sith waited for instructions. It was also the little robot's way of asking if he was all right. With regret, he flicked a tiny button on the bottom of the remote, shutting the robot down so that he could use the voice himself. There was no time to reassure Cait Sith, and no time to once again wonder at how a mechanical creation with A.I. could have gained an actual personality, complete with likes, dislikes, and concerns. He only hoped he would come across clearly enough.

"Sephiroth," he barely whispered. "Sephiroth. Sephiroth." He repeated it over and over, hoping that the one word would be enough. He was sure it would. Coming from someone who had witnessed the near destruction of the Planet, he knew it could only ever come across as a Red Alert warning. He waited silently for the vibration in the remote, telling him that someone had gotten his message.

It didn't come, and Reeve felt cold panic at what he might have to do next. When would he get another chance to warn them? Tomorrow night? By then, Sephiroth might have lost his patience, and would demand to be taken to Cloud. With dread, he realized that if he didn't contact someone this night, he'd have to wait until the next time the inhabited, Mako enhanced, and possibly Jenova injected clone slept again. Reeve didn't think he could fool him for that long. He went back to repeating "Sephiroth" under his breath, into the remote.

In desperation, he allowed Cait Sith to come back. The remote vibrated madly in his hand. "Stop," he commanded it under his breath. "If no one heard me, you have to tell everyone that Sephiroth is back. I'm with him now. I'm fine, but you have to let everyone know."

The image of the stock-still, wide-eyed, evil toy doll propped up against a tree stump haunted him, and he had to_had to_ make sure he still hadn't moved. The idea of it scared him witless. He wondered wildly what he would see when he next craned his neck to look at Sephiroth. Logic told him that he would not have moved, and that there was no reason for him to have woken up. But logic also told him that there was every chance that Sephiroth was awake and regarding him silently.

He turned his head and looked. Sephiroth was still leaning back against the tree stump, one knee drawn up, one leg outstretched, and both arms at his sides. But his eyes were fixed on Reeve.

Reeve felt his heart stop. Not jump, or skip a beat, but actually stop. He stared blankly for a second, not quite believing that this was happening in any way. No, this was the worst possible scenario. It was the thing you planned for before you did something you knew could get you into trouble, but never happened anyway, and you looked back on your prior panic and found it had been a waste of energy.

Sephiroth continued to stare at him. "What are you doing?" he finally asked.

Reeve felt the remote vibrate in his hand.

* * *

_Cosmo Canyon_

Marlene Wallace slept soundly in her warm bed in the Shildra Inn. She lived there with her Papa and Tifa, who owned and ran the Inn. She didn't have any of her studies tomorrow, and had planned on sleeping late, watching television in the morning, and going outside to hang out with her friends.

She'd been dreaming once more of the flower girl, the woman whom she hardly remembered in her waking hours, but whom she saw frequently in her dreams. Aerith was smiling and telling her not be afraid of what might happen soon, when she was suddenly aware of something touching her arm. It was soft, like fur, but with something heavy, potentially strong, and metal underneath it.

She sprang up, startled to see Cait Sith tugging her sleeve.

"What's the matter, Cait?" she asked in a sleepy mumble. "I don't have to get up early today. Shut down and let me go back to sleep."

"Marlene!" Cait squeaked, bouncing nervously atop the stuffed mog, "I'm supposed to find someone..."

But Cait Sith stopped in mid sentence and slumped over the Mog, in his shut down position. Cait Sith had never simply shut down like that, and Marlene was startled. What if there was something wrong with him? She would have to ask Tifa to look at him tomorrow.

Suddenly the robot jerked back up, making Marlene jump backwards in fright. He didn't look very much like Cait Sith, either. _He looks like a regular robot_, Marlene thought. She had never seen him looking so vacant. Nanaki had called it being "uninhabited," but she had thought that word only had to do with clones.

"Cait?" she said, apprehensively reaching her hand out to touch him. She pulled her hand back and uttered a little scream when she heard a different voice coming from him. It was very, very low, so that she could hardly hear it, but she knew for certain that it wasn't the voice of the robot cat. Cait's volume was turned all the way up, so that she could hear static hissing under the strange voice. She could sense fear in the voice, too, and that made her feel afraid. She was suddenly very aware of another presence in the room with her.

She edged out of her bed and toward the door, and the mog turned slowly, following the direction of her movement, as if to keep her in sight while the whispering continued. She knew she had to get Papa, or Tifa, but was afraid that if she made any sudden movements, Cait Sith and the mog might follow suit. She had never had anything to fear from the robot or the mog, but she also knew that the robot and the mog were gone, and something else was now in its place.

"Reeve," she whispered to herself in relief, recalling the man who sometimes controlled Cait Sith. She had seen Tifa talking to him through Cait. "Hey, Reeve, is that you in there?" She leaned a little closer, listening for the faint response.

The response was the same almost inaudible whisper. "Sephiroth."

Sephiroth. Marlene knew that legendary name from her studies, and from the stories she sometimes heard from Papa, Tifa, Nanaki and a few others. She associated the name with nothing more than a tremendous, orange glow in the sky. The image put a knot of fear in her stomach. This was not something she could handle alone.

"PAPA!" she called, running barefoot out of her room.

* * *

_Reeve and Sephiroth_

"Reeve? What are you doing?" Sephiroth had stood up and walked over to the where Reeve was still curled up on the ground.

With a resigned sigh, Reeve switched off the remote. There was nothing to gain by lying about it now. Sephiroth would only find out the truth one way or another. Reeve sat up stiffly, meeting Sephiroth's eyes, for what it might be worth. Then he glanced somewhat sadly at the pathetic little black remote in his palm.

"I was trying to contact Cloud Strife," he sighed. "To tell him that

you're looking for him, and that you're on your way."

Sephiroth was quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to Reeve's utter surprise, he nodded in apparent consent. "Yes, that's a good idea," he said. "I suppose it's not wise, or fair, even, to take him by surprise. Have you gotten through?" He sat down casually next to Reeve.

Reeve blinked rapidly a few times, and tried to make his mouth work. Then it occurred to him to make his brain work first. "Yes," was all he managed. "I mean, no, I haven't gotten through to Strife. I ahh...I don't know who's on the other end."

Sephiroth nodded towards the remote. "Is that a PHS?" he asked.

Reeve fumbled with it for a second before it slipped out of his hand. He realized his hands were shaking very badly. "Uh, no," he said, picking it up hurriedly. "It's more of a...a remote audio-visual sensor and control, for...It's hard to explain."

"May I see it?" Sephiroth held out his hand.

"Uh, yeah," Reeve said, and dropped it into Sephiroth's palm.

"What does it control?"

"That's the part that's hard to explain. In barest terms, it's a robot of my invention, with A.I. I can shut him down when I need to and use him to talk to others."

Sephiroth silently looked it over. He switched it on, and the visual screen lit up for a second. He looked at it with interest and switched it off before handing it back to Reeve. "That's interesting," he said. "Please let me know if you reach Strife."

Then he lay down on the ground and stretched his arms over his head, idly wrapping his hands around the handle of the broadsword behind him and flexing them. It was a casual gesture, but it made Reeve want to back away from him. "It's strange," Sephiroth mused, almost under his breath.

Reeve wasn't sure if he should ask exactly what was strange, or if he should keep his mouth shut. His heart was still beating wildly. The word "strange" seemed puny and trite when he thought of his own circumstance.

"It's strange to be alive," Sephiroth continued, more to himself than to Reeve. "To feel cold again and to have a body with which to feel it. Strange to have mass, and blood, and veins, and skin. Skin is certainly bizarre, all those nerve endings. Everything feels...a bit overwhelming, to tell you the truth."

Reeve fought the insane urge to laugh. Sephiroth had been brought back to life, and he found it _a bit overwhelming_.

He sat up suddenly and addressed Reeve. "I don't expect you to understand that, never having been in the Lifestream. But, it's the closest you can come to not being conscious of anything, while at the same time being conscious of everything. Only, in the Lifestream you can make sense of it, whereas on the Planet, you...can't.

"And when you're there, and you're aware of the people you knew, you think of them as a part of the whole, not so much remembering your feelings toward them in life. At least, that's how it was for me. And it's very, very quiet.

"But the more I'm here, the more I remember what it was like to be alive. And the memories come back little by little, sometimes slowly, sometimes suddenly." He furrowed his dark eyebrows and looked towards the ground, casting two pools of dim green light on it. "I'm only telling you this because while I was sleeping, I remembered you. I remembered you as..." he trailed off and laughed a little. "As someone in ShinRa that I could tolerate, especially near the end."

Reeve sat in front of Sephiroth, stunned by his sudden outpouring. A moment ago, he'd thought Sephiroth was going to simply cut him in half with the giant broadsword. But now, it almost seemed as if Reeve were talking to the person he had known more than ten years ago. He realized Sephiroth was probably waiting for a response. "Uh, yeah, that's me," he said, trying to sound casual. "The Tolerable Guy. That's the amazing power I have over people."

Sephiroth stared at him for a second and blinked slowly. At first Reeve wasn't sure what he was seeing, then it occurred to him that Sephiroth was smilingno, not just smiling, he was laughing. It was a dry, cold sound, but still an honest laugh. "I didn't mean it the way it sounded," he said.

Reeve made a nervous sound that he hoped passed for a laugh. He wasn't ready to give up the idea that he could still be in mortal danger; it just wasn't the wise thing to do. He suddenly remembered how Reno had always handled every intense or troublesome situation, which was something that Reeve used to find funny. When in trouble, or caught in a compromising situation, Reno would say, "Quick, act casual." Reeve used to laugh, but he could see the reason in it. If he was to at very least stay alive, and at best, find out what Sephiroth truly wanted, the best thing he could do was act casual. And he would have to try to stop cowering every time Sephiroth made a move. It wouldn't be helpful to show fear. Logically, he knew that someone like Sephiroth would look down on it; and it might even make him angry. And another, deeper part of him knew that Sephiroth could sense fear the same way animals could.

Reeve shrugged, very casually, he hoped. "I'd really like to find out what happened to my city," he said. It was partly to change the subject, so that he wouldn't have to get into personal memories with Sephiroth, but mostly because he truly did need to know.

"_Your_ city?" Sephiroth asked, looking mildly surprised.

"Yes, Midgar," Reeve said. "I run it these days. Or at least, I did run it until someone blew it up. Again. I know it wasn't an earthquake; I heard the blasts. You hear that once, you don't forget what it sounds like." He hastily looked away, as if he was trying to scan the horizon to see how far from Midgar they had gone. He couldn't see any trace of it, and wondered where the hell he was.

"The Turks," Sephiroth said.

Reeve looked back at him slowly. "What about them?" he asked.

"The Turks blew up Midgar. They were on a mission. I know because I followed them there."

Reeve found that his head was shaking "no" of its own accord. "That'sthat's not true," he said, feeling as though his mind was simply spinning in confusion. "I mean, yes, they did have a mission. I was the one who approached them with it, in fact. But it had nothing to do with Midgar; the mission was on the Northern Continent. To check out a cloning facility..."

"The cloning facility they destroyed was under Midgar," Sephiroth said. "And I know that's true because that's where I came from when I left the lab."

"But that just can't be. There's no way that the Turks would do that. Not to Midgar. Especially Reno, he would never, ever accept that mission. Besides, seeing as how I was the one who was approached about finding the Turks for this in the first place, I know it wasn't anywhere near Midgar."

Sephiroth gave him a penetrating look. "It was under Midgar," he said, and there was no need for him to add the words "case closed." "But," he went on, "you might want to consider who the Turks really are and what their jobs are. And what they will do for gil."

"That's just not poss"

"Reeve, don't be a fool. Naiveté might be a very endearing and charming quality, but it has no place in this world anymore. I might have been gone for a very long time, but _I know the Turks._ They do what they have to do."

Reeve was silent, refusing to look at Sephiroth. Let the arrogant bastard think what he wanted, Reeve knew that the Turks would not destroy Midgar.

"Or, if the Turks honestly didn't know what they were doing," Sephiroth said, "and I'm still not saying that they wouldn't do such a thing, but since you do have to look at it from all angles, you also might want to consider who approached _you_ about the mission."

Reeve looked up at Sephiroth, frowning. And then he thought of Bradburn. The skeevy, weasely little guy in a business suit.

Sephiroth smiled. "Looks like you might already have your answer," he said softly. "And now that you have one of your answers, you might be so kind as to help me with a few more of my own."

Reeve, by this time, could not have cared less what Sephiroth needed to know. He was still trying to piece it all together in his mind. Who was Bradburn, and where had he come from? What could his motivation have been? Where had he gotten his orders? Someone wanted the cloning facility eliminated secretly, badly enough that they didn't mind destroying much of Midgar in the process.

Most of all, he needed to get in touch with his employees, let them know he was alive, and begin evacuation and think about funding for trying to salvage what was left of his city. Funding? No, more like begging. He reached into the pocket of what was left of his jacket for his real PHS and switched it on.

"Reeve," Sephiroth said sharply.

Reeve jumped. He had nearly forgotten that Sephiroth was even

there.

"I'm sure you want to get help for Midgar," he said, "and that's fine; I understand you have a job to do and I won't interfere with that. But first, I'm requesting your help. I won't stop you from calling whomever you need to call, but I would ask that you help me get to where I need to go."

"I need to get back to my office!" Reeve said.

"You don't have an office," Sephiroth said.

The shock of that statement knocked Reeve back and made him have to shake his head to clear it. The cold practicality of Sephiroth's words took his breath away. Not only was his office in Midgar probably in ruins, but so was the entire building. And those around it. And, what had not occurred to him earlier, probably due to the fact that he was lying in a pool of his own congealing blood, was that the little amusement park was in ruins too. He found he was pulling his own hair in frustration. "I have an office in Junon," he said hurriedly. "I need to get back to..."

Sephiroth almost gently took the PHS out of his hand and switched it off. "You can just as easily get someone else to take care of the technical things. Midgar is in a state of emergency; the authorities realize that. I'm sure you're not the _only_ one running it. You need to get us both to Cosmo Canyon to see Cloud Strife. You should go in before me, to tell Strife that I need to see him. I'm not going to stop you from contacting your people, but I think that right now your priority should be Cosmo Canyon. You do want to figure out exactly why this happened, don't you? I came out of that laboratory and walked right into Midgar. There was something very wrong going on there even before this mission of the Turks'. I only know it has to do with ShinRa's old work, and with Mako; and I can only assume from what you've told me that this also has to do with me, and somehow with Strife as well. It makes more sense for you to get us both to Cosmo Canyon first."

It took Reeve a moment to find his voice. "How did you know...I mean, what makes you say that Cloud Strife is in, or anywhere near Cosmo Canyon? All right," he said harshly, relenting. "How did you know?"

Sephiroth nodded towards the remote that now lay on the ground next to Reeve. "I switched it on before, and your little robot gave me a visual. There was a windmill in the background, and that would suggest Cosmo Canyon."

Reeve sighed. This was absolutely the most dismal night of his life since Meteor. He forced himself to think clearly. He had gone the executive route the last time. He'd stayed in his office doing businessman things while living vicariously through a robotic cat, and eventually ended up in a ShinRa prison cell. Certainly he had done all he could as Cait Sith, but Midgar had been destroyed anyway, time and again.

And now he was being presented with the opportunity to actively help the people of Avalanche. If Sephiroth was right, which he seemed to be, and there was some connection to this whole fiasco with ShinRa, Mako and Cloud Strife, then the best thing he could do was try to solve it from its core. Not by begging for gil from an office in Junon.

Reeve held out his hand towards Sephiroth, silently asking for the PHS. "I need to get us an airship," he whispered. "But you'll have to stay out of sight when my assistants bring them and when they fly the extra one back. And you'll have to pilot it. They won't ask questions."

Sephiroth nodded and handed the PHS back to Reeve. "Oh yes," he added, "the next time you want to contact Strife, or anyone for that matter, you don't need to pretend you're asleep to do it."

Reeve stopped dialing and looked up, wide eyed, at Sephiroth, who was smiling in the pre-dawn light.


	10. chapter ten

I will admit that this section contains what I think is my second favorite line in this fic, the one about the ice cracking in the distance. I get hung up on stupid little things like that.

Uh oh, we have OFC sign! Yes, original female character! Run! Hide! ;; I think I did okay with her. But that's not for me to decide.

Oh, and Cloud is in it. Really. Big time Cloud angst. Big time.

Incidentally, the last line in this section is where I stopped writing about four years ago, and put this fic down. I guess this ends the '00 arc for me. :) Anything after this was written within the last 12 or 13 months. I feel like it's almost two seperate stories. Odd, really.

* * *

**The Turks**

_"I stepped into an avalanche,_

_it covered up my soul..."_

_Avalanche - Leonard Cohen_

Tseng was not a small person, and Rude was glad he didn't have to carry him very far. He was no easier than dead weight, and his occasional twitching and outright spazzing wasn't helping either. Reno had helped a little, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that Reno wasn't doing very well himself. And the ashy grey color of his face didn't go well with his violently red hair at all.

"Sorry, Rude," Reno said once again, sagging under the weight.

They reached the bottom of the massive, ancient stairs leading up to Cosmo Canyon, and flagged the sentinel at the gate.

"We need help!" Elena called. The guard in turn whistled for a handful of people to come and help him, and ran down the stairs.

Reno sat down on the ground wearily, taking Tseng and Rude with him. He wiped the sleeve of his shirt over his eyes and forehead and caught his breath. He took off the rubber band that held his hair back and tried to comb through the strands with his fingers, but it was too sweaty and knotted.

"Dammit, Reno, what the hell's the matter?" Rude asked.

"I don't know," Reno said. "I just want to crawl away, puke, and die."

"Yeah, well, do it later, okay?" Rude said. He was worried about Reno, and couldn't help snapping at him.

Tseng spazzed again, and opened his eyes. They were unfocused.

"Tseng?" Reno said warily.

Tseng rolled his eyes in the direction of the voice. Reno was careful not to lean too close to Tseng, in case he should decide that he didn't know who anyone was again, and attack them. Even feeling like hell as Tseng obviously was, he could still put up a fight and they all knew it.

Tseng did make a sudden move, and despite Reno's caution, he simply wasn't fast enough to avoid it. Tseng had grabbed the front of Reno's shirt and pulled him down, so that Reno was leaning over him. Elena and Rude instantly had both their guns drawn and aimed at Tseng's head. Rude was surprised at the determination he saw in Elena's face, but he knew that neither of them was in a hurry to pull the trigger.

Reno was holding a shaking hand up to them. Tseng, still lying on the ground, seemed to be studying him carefully.

"Reno?" he finally whispered.

Elena and Rude simultaneously eased the hammers of their guns back down, but didn't put the guns away.

"Yeah," Reno said softly.

"Recognized your voice, big mouth," Tseng said with a slight smile. Then his eyes rolled back and closed, and his hand fell away from Reno's shirt.

Reno sat back on his heels. "It's a start," he said.

The guards from Cosmo Canyon had reached the bottom of the stairs and approached them, out of breath.

"We need help," Elena said, "We don't know what's wrong with him and this was the nearest town."

The guard who had been standing at the top of the stairs was a very young man, almost a boy. He looked around nervously at the others who had followed him. "Get Nanaki and come to the Shildra," he told one of the others. "The rest of you, help me get this guy there."

"Good luck," Rude said, getting himself up and dusting himself off. "He tends to wake up and freak out every few minutes."

"I'll keep it in mind," the young guard said.

"Excuse me," Elena said, as they lifted Tseng, "did you say 'Nanaki?'"

"Yes, I did," said the young man, as they all started up the stairs.

When they finally reached the Shildra Inn, without incident, the Turks and Tseng were given a room immediately. Reno sat down heavily in the chair across from the bed.

The young man who had helped them turned to one of his comrades. "Should we find Miss Lockheart?" he asked.

Rude looked up more quickly than he meant to. But then, so had Elena and Reno.

"Lockheart?" Reno asked. "As in, Tifa Lockheart?"

"Well, yes," said the guard. "I mean, you guys are the Turks, right? I just think she should know you're here. If you have a problem with that, I'd be more than happy to put a bullet in your brain."

Rude watched Reno struggle with the urge to tell the young man where he could put his bullets, and was very proud of his restraint. "Hey," Reno said instead, holding his empty hands up, "we're not here to cause any trouble. We didn't even know Lockheart was here. But now that you mention it, we do have important news for her."

The guard nodded curtly. One of the other men walked over to him and whispered something in his ear. The guard immediately looked furious, and his face turned red in embarrassment. "And I'll need you to hand over your weapons," he said.

Reno snickered and Rude smiled. "Good thinking," Reno said, and handed over his gun. "But I'll want it back."

"That depends on what Miss Lockheart says," he answered. "I'm going to lock you in, as well," he said. "We can't throw you in jail, but we have to make sure you don't pose a threat."

"Right," Reno said slowly. "That'll hold the Turks."

The guard narrowed his eyes. "It might not," he said, "but the guys posted outside your room might have something to..."

His older friend shook his head. "It's not worth it," he said, and they both left the room, locking the door behind them.

"That was interesting," Elena said glumly. "Seems that the mighty saviors of the Planet still have something against us."

"Well goddamn, Elena," Reno said, "we only tried to kill them a whole big bunch of times."

"It was our job!" she snapped at him.

"I know," Reno said irritably, and held his head in his hands. "Look, let's just wait and see what happens, okay?"

They didn't have long to wait. The door was unlocked, and Nanaki and Tifa Lockheart stepped into the room quietly. For a long moment, no one said a word. Finally it was Tifa who spoke.

"That Tseng?" she asked, with a nod in the direction of the bed.

"Yeah," Reno answered without looking up.

Rude looked her over. She had changed considerably, but was still attractive. Her hair was shorter than it had been, falling only to the middle of her back. He remembered that when he'd first seen her, it was long enough to brush the backs of her thighs. It wasn't as dark as it used to be. Her hips were a little fuller, and her eyes looked very tired. She looked like a woman who had seen much in her time. She leaned against the door with her hands behind her back.

"Did you come to fight?" she asked. "Or did you come because you really need help?"

Elena looked at her, clearly appalled. She gestured toward where Tseng lay curled up on the bed. "What do you think?" she asked.

"I think that you're the Turks," Tifa replied, "and are capable of tricking us."

Nanaki walked up to Tseng and looked at him carefully. He lifted his nose and took in the scents around him. Then he looked back to Tifa. "Well, he is very sick," Nanaki said in a low voice. "It could be poison." He looked at Reno. "You, as well," he said. "We're still trying to find our healer," he said.

"Healer?" Reno snapped. "How about a regular doctor, like everyone else uses?"

"We have news," Rude spoke up, cutting Reno off. "But we need to find Strife, too. It's important."

Tifa turned her eyes to him and for a second, she almost smiled. "I don't have a bar anymore, Rude," she said.

"Shame," Rude replied.

"Yes," she said, and looked pointedly at Reno. "It is."

Reno looked up and met her eyes. Rude could see the bitterness in his eyes and in Tifa's. "We need to find Strife," Reno said, ignoring her baiting remark.

"Cloud is dead," she said.

The entire room went silent and still, letting her words hang in the air.

"Strife's dead?" Reno finally said, breaking the stunned silence.

"That's what I said, isn't it?" Tifa said, with venom in her voice.

"You upset because you didn't get to do it?"

"Hey," Reno said, getting to his feet, "I had _nothing_ against Strife and I know as well as anyone else here what he did for this Planet. You know that it was never personal. It was war. Yeah, your side was right, our side was wrong; that's the way it went this time. But the war is over." He took a long, shaky breath. "I'm thankful for that. I'm tired, Tifa. I am so goddamned tired, and I mean, of everything. You know how many times it would have been easier for me to just drop dead instead of fighting you people? I don't even know what was driving me, or any of us, toward the end. It could have been pride, it could have been ShinRa, it could have been the fact that Avalanche blew the hell out of a Mako reactor that employed a lot of ignorant kids younger than any of us were back then. So don't give me crap about how horrible ShinRa was to bring down Sector Seven; we all know how horrible it was. We lived it. I'm not going to give you excuses, but there is a lot you don't know. I'm sure there's a lot we don't know either. Goddamnit, is there a bathroom here?" he shouted.

Tifa, who had at first been listening to him with a look of stunned, indignant outrage on her face, now stood with her mouth hanging open. "Err, yeah," she said, and nodded toward a door to Reno's right.

"Good!" he said. "I'm going to go puke." And with that, he walked aggressively to the bathroom and slammed the door behind him.

"Look, Miss Lockheart," Rude said softly, once Reno had left, "we didn't come here for this. We didn't even know you were here. I think Reno is right. We all want to let go of the things that you and your group did to us. We understand what your motivation was, and we know you were right. This thing has two sides, you know, and Avalanche wasn't perfect either. But we're not obnoxious enough to think that we have anything to forgive you for." He looked at Elena, making sure she didn't have anything to add to that, and wasn't going to disagree. But she simply sat there looking shocked, probably at the fact that Rude had said so much. "It would be helpful for all of us to forget all of that. If you don't want to, fine. We'll give you our news and be on our way. I'm sorry about Strife," he added.

"Come," Nanaki said, still speaking softly, "Miss Elena and Mr. Rude. I think we should leave Mr. Tseng and Reno until our healer gets here. We need to discuss some things and this is not the place for it."

Tifa didn't seem to know what to say, and opened the door for Nanaki, who stepped out. He looked back over his shoulder and waited for Elena and Rude to follow.

They had gone around the back of Cosmo Canyon's observatory. No one spoke on the way. Elena wondered where they were going, and felt very uncomfortable without her weapon. If Tifa and Nanaki had anything planned, she doubted that she and Rude would be able to fight them off. They'd have to somehow escape and get Tseng and Reno out with them.

Beyond the hill they were climbing she could see a cemetery in the distance. She and Rude exchanged curious glances, while Tifa kept walking straight ahead into the graveyard. They shrugged, and followed her. Nanaki stayed back and waited watchfully on the hill.

Tifa stopped in front of a plain headstone. The only word written on it was "Strife."

Elena suddenly saw Cloud Strife in her mind, as a young, aggressive SOLDIER type kid, his eyes full of passion and confusion. As much as the Turks had tried to kill Strife, she had never actually thought he would die. He was too dynamic and too alive. She looked over at Rude and was surprised at how shaken he looked.

"Uh..." Elena began awkwardly, "what happened?"

"He was murdered," Tifa said, without taking her eyes off of the headstone. "I'm sure Scarlet and the new ShinRa were behind it, but there's no way of proving it."

Rude crouched down beside the headstone. "I guess I never really thought he would actually die," he said, echoing Elena's thoughts.

"Yeah," Tifa said almost absently, "me either."

While Elena was still having a difficult time imagining that Cloud Strife was really lying beneath a few solid feet of dirt and grass, Tifa had turned her back and was already walking away.

"I'll see if our healer is there yet," she said without looking back, and walked back to where Nanaki waited on the hill.

Elena turned to look at Rude. "Can you believe it?" she said.

"Not hardly," Rude replied.

Elena turned back and touched the headstone, as if placing a hand on a friend's shoulder. "Hey, Strife," she said softly. Then she turned to Rude once more. "I'm sort of sorry this happened, you know?" she said.

Rude nodded.

Elena thought of the things that the bizarre, spiky headed kid had been through, with ShinRa, Nibelheim, Hojo, the Ancient, and finally Sephiroth. It seemed that if he had survived all of that, nothing would ever kill him. And yet, it had finally been Scarlet who had finished him, or so Tifa thought. She wondered how Scarlet had managed it. She had to admit to herself, she did feel badly that she'd been a part of this struggling kid's grief. Even if he had been a part of hers. She wondered if she would finally get over her anger towards him. Looking at his name on the headstone suddenly shifted her perspective.

"Never thought I'd see you here," Elena said.

Rude nodded in silent agreement.

"Likewise," came a soft voice from behind them. The voice sounded amused and almost sarcastic.

Elena reached for her weapon out of habit before remembering that it wasn't there. She turned slowly, cautiously, preparing herself for anything.

Cloud Strife leaned carelessly against a tall monument a few yards behind them, watching them with an amused look that matched his voice. He was holding a cardboard cup with the words "Icicle Steaming Cocoa" on it in his gloved hands, and had a green, battered backpack slung over one arm. There was a snowboard propped up against his leg. He took a sip from the drink and then casually swirled it with the straw. There was an Icicle Coffee House at the air station outside of Cosmo Canyon, and that was the closest one Elena could think of.

She faced him, filled with confusion and anger. "Are you a clone?" she asked. _A clone who travels to the Northern Continent during snowboarding season?_ her mind mocked, but she hushed the inner voice.

Strife's eyes darkened for a moment, then he smiled easily. "Nope," he said. "Though others might try to tell you that. I'm just Cloud Strife from Nibelheim, same as I always was." He pushed himself off the monument and walked toward them, taking another sip from the straw. "Tifa bring you here?" he asked.

Elena nodded. She had a million questions she wanted to ask, but didn't know where to begin. She decided to just let him talk.

"Yeah, I figured that. New ShinRa's been after me for a while, so this was Avalanche's plan, to fake my death. Kind of a crappy plan, actually. You guys still with ShinRa?" he asked.

Elena was a little shocked at his easy confidence. Apparently Strife wasn't worried at all about whether or not they were from the new ShinRa. He must have known that, had they been working with Scarlet, they'd either kill him or run right back and tell Scarlet that he was alive. She thought that should worry him plenty.

"No, we're not," Rude said, eyeing Cloud warily. "But what if we were?"

Cloud shrugged and smiled again. "You guys couldn't beat me back then," he said. "Not to be rude or anything, but you can't beat me now, even if all of you tried all at once and I had one hand tied behind my back. You could call all of ShinRa down on me, and you still wouldn't beat me. Believe me, I'm not worried about you."

Elena was immediately indignant, and wanted to spit back that he was the most conceited jerk she'd ever seen, but something made her hold back her comments. Looking at him, not only did she grudgingly suspect that he was right, but something about him was making her skin prickle.

She thought perhaps it had something to do with the way that Cloud seemed be to purposely keeping himself under tight control. Underneath his easygoing posture and smile, she sensed something more going on. As Cloud came closer, Elena could see that he was deliberately taking deep, even breaths. He was edgily calm, a practiced calm that seemed to remain intact by the force of his will. She wondered how long after beating Sephiroth it had taken him to win that self control.

Strife could only have been about thirty one or maybe thirty two by Elena's calculation, but his eyes looked older. His hair was longer, and didn't stick straight up as it used to. It still seemed to fall in long spikes, though. Elena vaguely wondered why in the hell that was.

"So why'd you come here?" he asked, with a tilt of his head.

"We ran into some trouble and we needed help," she said. "We didn't know you guys were here. Tseng is alive; he's very sick. There's a lot more to the story, but that's the short answer."

Cloud raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Tseng survived?" he said.

"Yeah, no thanks to you," Elena shot back.

Cloud nodded. "Yeah, that's true. But then, I survived too. No thanks to you guys." He took the lid off of the drink and drained the rest of it, then licked the chocolate from his lips. He smiled again. His teeth were perfectly white and straight. Suddenly he looked all too youthful and misleadingly harmless.

"Anyway, it's probably better that we met you," Elena went on, businesslike. She decided that her resentment was there for a reason, and she'd better let it run its course. She'd let go of it when she was damn good and ready. "We have news that I think might concern you. Sephiroth is back."

Cloud blinked, and his hand tightened around the empty cup, but he otherwise controlled his reaction. Still, Elena was reminded of the time that she had stepped out onto a frozen lake by her childhood home on the Northern Continent and heard the ice crack in the distance.

Cloud took a deep breath, smiled vaguely, and nodded. "I guess it was only a matter of time," he said. "Did you actually see him yourself?"

"That's one way of putting it," Rude said slowly. "But he said he didn't mean anyone any harm."

Cloud nodded. "I guess he could honestly mean that, at least for now."

Elena frowned. It was not the reaction she had expected. She almost wanted to remind him that she had said "Sephiroth," and not "cuddly stuffed mog."

Cloud saw the dubious look on Elena's face, and he shrugged. "You don't know the real Sephiroth," he said. "You never met him. I remember him a little, once in a while. He was cold, but he wasn't, you know. Evil."

"So," Rude said warily, "who's to say he's not still 'evil' now?"

"I didn't say he wasn't," Cloud said. "I just said it was possible." He took another sip from the straw, remembered the cup was empty, and then, looking slightly disappointed, crushed it in his hand. He nodded toward the headstone with his name on it. "Mind if we go back and talk?" he asked. "I don't like looking at that thing."

With no other options, the two Turks followed Strife back to the Shildra.

When Cloud walked into the Inn, followed by the two Turks, Elena thought that Tifa was going to hit him. At first glance, she had looked thrilled to see him, but when she saw the Turks behind him as he strolled casually in, her look of pleasure turned into a glare.

"Cloud!" was all she could manage to say in her exasperation.

Cloud dropped the backpack he was carrying and went to her. He kissed her on the cheek quickly, oddly, without touching her anywhere else. "Don't worry about it, Tifa," he said with a smile. "I know I'm an airhead, but I'm an enhanced airhead. I can still take care of myself."

"Cloud!" she said. "Are you stupid? These are the Turks!"

Cloud looked over his shoulder at Elena and Rude, looked back to Tifa, and smiled. "It's all right," he said. "We don't need to worry about them." He turned back to look at them once more. "Do we need to worry about you?"

"Well, that depends," Elena shot back. "Where are your loyalties these days? Do we have to worry about you?"

Tifa looked even angrier, but Elena knew she was playing her cards right. If she had pretended that everything was just fine and peachy, she and the Turks would immediately be suspect.

Cloud shrugged. "My loyalty's to my friends, same as always. And to the Planet."

Elena could not put her finger on exactly why Strife was making her so nervous. His manner was easy, even friendly. Maybe that was what it was, maybe he was too friendly. And he seemed to be inwardly laughing at something, some private joke that only he was in on. But it made her damned uncomfortable.

It was then that Marlene came into the room. Elena didn't recognize her right away as the little girl who had been guarded by Reeve after Tseng had taken her and Elmyra.

"Tifa?" Marlene began, before spotting Cloud. "Cloud!" she called, and ran over to him, throwing her arms around him. Elena noted that Cloud flinched at this action, and Marlene let him go quickly, conspicuously, and backed away. "I'm glad you're home! How was Icicle Inn? How was snowboarding?"

"It was great," Cloud said. "It really clears my mind. I'll teach

you when your Papa lets me."

"I don't want to break my arm like you that time though, you spaz."

"No, compound fractures suck," Cloud said, rubbing his arm as if the reminder had made it ache. "I brought something home for you; it's in my backpack." He began going through his backpack, finally producing a small box, which he handed to Marlene.

Marlene tore into the cardboard box happily, and finally retrieved a small, crystal snowman. "Ooh, Cloud, it's really pretty!" she said. "Thank you." She visibly restrained herself from hugging him.

Marlene had become a cute young lady. Elena wondered why she was treating Cloud as if he were contagious, when her pleasure at seeing him had been sincere, then she decided that Marlene must have a crush on him. She wondered at the idea of anyone finding Cloud Strife attractive, but teens were known for their strange taste. Perhaps all Marlene could see in him was boyish features and danger. And those even, white teeth, which, to Elena, suddenly made him seem somewhat predatory.

"Thought you'd like it," Cloud said. "I have something for you too, Tifa."

"Oh!" Marlene broke in, remembering that she had come to talk to Tifa. "That's what I wanted to tell you. I couldn't find Gran Reisei. I checked everywhere you told me to, but she's gone."

* * *

_**Sephiroth**_

It was afternoon by the time Reeve's airship, The Tempest, touched down outside of Cosmo Canyon, and dusk before Reeve left for the town. Sephiroth watched him until he couldn't see him anymore. He could see the observatory in the distance. It wasn't too long of a walk, but Reeve had given Sephiroth the PHS from The Tempest and said that he would call him after he had spoken to Cloud.

Sephiroth adjusted his cloak over his shoulders and sat down. It was then that he realized he was hungry, and wondered if Reeve had been hungry as well. It had been a while since either of them had eaten. He doubted that Reeve's body would be as used to going without food as his was. Well did he remember his early days in ShinRa's laboratory, going days without eating simply because Hojo had forgotten that food was a necessity for his experiment.

Hojo. He hadn't had a chance to ask Reeve anything about Hojo. There was a lot he wanted to ask about everything, but the scientist was a priority. He had a feeling Hojo was dead. He almost had to be, otherwise, Sephiroth knew, he'd somehow have reared his ugly head by now.

He closed his eyes and let another vague memory sharpen in his mind. Instead of seeing Hojo, he saw his own reflection. He was small, a child of perhaps ten. He had seen other children by then, and had to admit, he didn't look like one. He didn't seem to be proportioned like one either.

He remembered wondering often why there was even a mirror in the bathroom. He never cared to look at himself as a child, and by all appearances, Hojo never even glanced at one. Later in Sephiroth's life, certainly, the mirror was very handy. He had to make sure that, as a Soldier, he looked disciplined and organized. Or at least, as organized as he could possibly look with his wild, long, silver hair.

He suddenly remembered the day clearly. This would have to be the day that he'd woken up to find that his dark brown hair had turned entirely silver.

**-

* * *

**

_Sephiroth stared in the boy in the mirror._

_"Hojo," he snapped._

_He heard the scientist drop something, and felt his startled presence jump in response to the sharpness in his creation's voice. In a moment, he saw Hojo's reflection behind him. _

_"Hojo," Sephiroth said, "why is my hair silver?"_

_"Possibly a side effect," Hojo said in a dismissive tone. "Just a side effect of your treatments."_

_Sephiroth continued to stare. His hair, which had always grown quickly, had also seemingly grown a few inches overnight, and now fell to his shoulders. And the color somehow made him seem paler than before. Or maybe he was paler. Maybe that was another side effect. He wondered fleetingly why these things were called "side effects." Wasn't everything cause and effect? Where did the "side" part come in? It seemed like a complicated way of saying "mistakes."_

_"I hate it," he said. "Cut it off."_

_"Now, Sephiroth," Hojo said in his oily voice, "there's no need..."_

_Sephiroth turned on Hojo so quickly that the scientist fell back a step. "I said cut it off!" _

_Hojo smiled in pretend sweetness. "All right," he said smoothly. "We'll cut it off." _

_Sephiroth had waited impatiently while Hojo cut his hair as short as he could, until it was cropped close to his head. His scalp felt every movement of Hojo's hands, and it was revolting. He still hated the way it looked, but at least he didn't have strands of strange light hair falling all over his face as a constant reminder. _

_He dusted the fallen strands off the shoulders of the loose fitting white scrubs that were his standard wardrobe. _

_Hojo had then sent him off to study from one of his numerous history books. Reading time was one of the only things Sephiroth enjoyed back then. It was one of the only times he could be alone, could have privacy, and could think his own thoughts. Reading time provided a respite from the many scientists' cool, latex-covered fingers, the clinical terms that they used to describe him, the curious stares and fearful glances. Hojo simply touched him far too much, and without gloves. There was nothing more than detached, scientific interest in his touch, and Sephiroth could never understand why these routine things still made his skin crawl._

_But when he was let alone with his books, it didn't matter if he was hungry or thirsty or cold. He was just glad to be left alone, and to be absorbed into a world outside of the laboratory._

_In fact, on this day, he had become so involved in his reading that he didn't notice right away when he absently pushed a stray lock of long silver hair behind his ear. It was a common gesture, and he had all but forgotten about the day's events. But when that stray lock of silver hair fell into his eyes and he impatiently brushed it back once more, he stopped reading. He was afraid to look. He was afraid to even touch, for fear of confirming what he already knew, from the way he could feel it tickling his neck._

_It had been one of the few times that he had actually let himself go so far as to cry in frustration, and in fear as well. He berated himself for it, and for being so afraid. Perhaps, he had thought, the injections were finally poisoning him enough so that he would die. Instead of frightening him, that was the thought which comforted him. The real fear came from knowing that this probably wasn't true. What was more likely was that he would continue to live, and would be even more different than he had been before. Which meant more blood tests, more curious and fearful glances, more physical studies and reports. All of the things he hated the most._

_When his reading time was over, he once again looked into the mirror in the bathroom. And again, Hojo came up behind him and regarded him with fascination. "So interesting," Hojo muttered. _

_"I hate it," Sephiroth said hollowly._

_Hojo chuckled and put his hands on Sephiroth's shoulders with a proprietary air. "Don't worry about your hair, boy," he said. "You have too much to be vain about, to worry about what you look like."_

_"But when I join SOLDIER..."_

_"When you join SOLDIER, Sephiroth, no one will dare question you. This is you, my Sephiroth. You can't change what you are."_

_

* * *

_

Sephiroth sighed and tucked his hair into his cloak. He drew his knees up and rested his head on them as the memory of Hojo's lab faded.

Then he looked up again quickly.

He could sense something moving towards him, and could hear soft footsteps in the distance. It wasn't Reeve. He found he could hear and sense Reeve easily, as he had when Reeve had tried to secretly call Strife through that bizarre little robot of his. He could hear his breathing pattern change, even sleeping as he had been. It was almost funny, how hard Reeve had tried to be so quiet, and how he'd been so obviously pretending to be asleep. But it was also upsetting to Sephiroth that he inspired that amount of terror in someone who should have had nothing to fear from him.

And also, he had to respect what the man had tried to do. As afraid as Reeve obviously was, it hadn't stopped him from trying to warn his friend of perceived danger. It was this unthinking valiance, Sephiroth remembered, that he had always liked in Reeve, and he'd always thought that he was the only one in ShinRa who had taken note of it.

The presence moving towards him definitely wasn't Reeve. In the distance, Sephiroth could discern a bobbing, flickering green light. He narrowed his eyes as he watched it approach. It felt familiar.

In a few moments, he could see that the figure was female. The shape of her was small, awkward, hunched over. He could see a curtain of hair, could see that she was wearing a simple, loose-fitting dress, that she was carrying what seemed to be a large object wrapped in cloth on her back, and that she was holding the flickering green flame in her palm. Likely, it was coming from her palm.

Sephiroth wasn't impressed. She was obviously Mako enhanced, and the green flame was a cheap parlor trick.

Finally he could see her features, and was surprised to see that he was looking at an old woman. From the thickness of her hair, he had at first judged her to be much younger. The light cast moving shadows over her deeply lined face and over her hair, which, half tied loosely behind her back with the rest falling over the sides of her face, was silver like his.

She smiled as she approached him, and tilted her head to the side like a schoolgirl asking to be noticed. He watched her silently as she closed her hand around the green flame, snuffing it in her palm. He could still see her by the moonlight. Then she took the burden she was carrying off her back, put it in front of him, and knelt down slowly, her bones creaking.

"Sephiroth," she said. Her voice was young and light, and had a tone of pleased familiarity.

"You have the advantage of me. Have we met?"

She smiled, showing straight, white teeth that looked out of place in her wrinkled mouth. It was disconcerting to look at her, and confusing to see such an open..._young_ look in features that were wizened and old. Not just old, Sephiroth felt, as he looked at her brightly glowing, green eyes. Far beyond old.

_...Ancient..._

Sephiroth raised his eyebrows, but tried not to show any further surprise. He leaned forward to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

"Aerith?"

She giggled, a demure, sweet sound. "I get that a lot."

"Then who..."

"I brought you something."

Sephiroth was about to be annoyed with her for cutting him off, but became more interested in the item she had placed on the ground. She glanced at it before looking coyly back at him.

He quirked an eyebrow and deigned to look at it as well. It was much longer than it was wide; nearly as tall as he was. He felt his lips part in stupid wonder as he realized, even before he pulled back the cloth, what it was.

"Oh," was all he could say, and it came out in a whisper.

"Some peoplepeople who don't know about Jenova, maybethink that this is what drove you insane. Silly rumors."

Sephiroth looked at her sharply, an edge of ice already in his voice as he prepared to tell her that people were idiots. It wasn't so much that she had spoken of his insanity (and apparent notoriety,) as it was that she had mentioned the Masamune blade in with the whole mess. But then he found that it was difficult indeed to look into her craggy, smiling face and be angry at her.

He slid his hand down the cold length of the blade as if tasting it with his fingers.

"But that's ridiculous," she went on. "This blade sings for you. You gave it your spirit. It cried when you went insane and used it unjustly."

Sephiroth looked away from the sword and back to this strange old woman, and wondered if he was dreaming. It seemed to make sense that he would be dreaming, since he was very close to his emotions, and that rarely happened when he was awake. But, dreaming or not, he still had to do or say something.

"How did you find"

"It's clean now and so are you," she said.

It occurred to Sephiroth that she was interrupting him to avoid answering his questions. He thought about telling her that he knew what she was doing, but what she had just said had piqued his interest more.

"What do you mean?"

"Jenova was inside of you since before you were born. She made you half of what you were."

"And?"

"And now she's not inside of you." She waited for him to understand that, and then she smiled and tucked her hair behind her ear in a feminine and youthful gesture. Sephiroth was once again reminded of the photos he had seen of Aerith Gainsborough. "Nice new body, fresh and clean," she said as she looked him over appreciatively. "And quite strong," she added with a coquettish lilt that belied her age. The effect was unsettling. "Come back with me to the Canyon, Sephiroth. I'll take you there."

For a moment Sephiroth only stared at her. Then he got up, taking the Masamune easily and swiftly in his hand as he did so. It was as if they had never been parted. The woman struggled for a moment, and he offered her his free hand, hearing her joints snap as he helped her to stand.

"Thank you," she said. "Hide that under your cloak, but only for now. Sephiroth, I have one more thing that I need to give you. Have you had many limit breaks?"

Sephiroth stared in confusion for a moment before answering her. "Ah, yes," he finally said. "Yes, many."

"Good, then I can give you another gift; I have it hidden away at the Canyon. Follow, please."

Then she turned and started to walk back to where she'd come from.

Sephiroth watched her walk, trying to figure out what he had just seen. He found that he couldn't. He was unused to being so badly confused. Finally, he could think of nothing to do but follow her.

Wordlessly, he did.

**

* * *

**

**Avalanche**

_"And though I've tried to lay her ghost down_

_She's moving through me, even now_

_I don't know why and I don't know how..."_

_- Nick Cave - Nobody's Baby Now_

It had been turning out to be one of those days when he had to concentrate every cell in his body on blocking the feelings out. The feelings lead to panic, and panic lead directly to loss of control, and loss of control was bad. But seeing the Turks return with such drama had thrown him a curve and surprised him enough that he forgot that he had to concentrate so damned hard. In fact, it had taken his mind completely off the feelings for a while, and strangely, that was good. It gave him a moment to breathe. Only once, when Elena had mentioned the word "clone," did they threaten to resurface, but he forced them back like hot bile in his throat.

Of all things, he must not lose control in front of anyone who had been involved in ShinRa. The Turks seemed to have turned out for the better, and he believed them when he said they had no more loyalty to their old company. But they still knew too much about him. They knew both too much and too little, and that was a deadly combination. They would act out of fear if they knew what was going on.

Oh hell, even he acted out of fear. Even Tifa did, a few of the times when they had both acknowledged the depth of this thing.

Cloud rested his head against the cool, damp porcelain of the toilet and heaved a long, shaky sigh. Which, he thought, was a hell of a lot nicer than what he had heaved a few minutes ago. She was punishing him for fighting her again. She hated for him to fight her, and on some days she was so strong, she got her point across with bone-jarring emphasis. On some days though, she seemed to even forget about him for a while. It seemed likely to Cloud that there were still others she thought she could use.

She never stayed away for too long, though, and her appearances were sudden, random, and often impossible to predict. He'd always hoped that she would find him too weak to fulfill her desires and would perhaps find someone else to use. That would at least free him up to fight her againfrom the outside.

Or of course, she might also choose to bring all of them together and build a much bigger beast, so to speak. Just bring them all together.

(_reunion_)

(_become one_)

Cloud snorted derisively and raised his middle finger over his head. "Become one with this," he said, and immediately twisted into a heap on the floor.

(_cloud, my numberless reject, how can you be so stupid?_) her voice asked him mentally, as he felt fire in his skin. Every nerve ending felt separated from the others, and if he had an eternity, he could count them. She didn't like to be mocked, and he damn well knew that, but sometimes it was the only way he could prove he wasn't a slave. He felt her literally under his skin, and the sensation was what he imagined it would feel like to be stung by thousands of bees all over.

Cloud swallowed hard and fought for a breath. She was strong today, and seemed to be focusing all her attention on him. He guessed it was because he'd had his attention on her. If only, he thought, he could just find those pieces of her that were so carefully hidden in his system, and cut them out...

Finally, her grip eased up, and the buzz of her presence left his head. He found that he could smile a little. She was recedingno, retreating again. At least for now.

Damn Sephiroth for coming back and making him think of her, and while Cloud was at it, damn Sephiroth in the first place, for what had happened all those years ago.

Damn Sephiroth for showing up when he had, the last time they had fought Jenova. Damn Sephiroth for taking the fall for her while she eked out her escape, beaten and broken, to...to regroup. Damn Sephiroth for being such a groveling, easily manipulated weakling and going under like a rookie.

_And damn Cloud Strife while you're at it, for letting him._

Because Cloud knew exactly what Sephiroth had been going through with The Bitch, and had managed to hold out for years, with some help. Help that perhaps Sephiroth had never gotten.

If Sephiroth hadn't shown up when he had that last time they'd fought Jenova, then he, Vincent and Cid would have finished her off. He was sure of it. But now she was still hidden in him, and had been dormant until she'd gotten her strength back, multiplied herself, and made herself known again.

He stood up wearily, leaning on the sink, and looked in the mirror. Ah, god, this was bad. His eyes were brighter than they had been even minutes ago. Not green, but that strange bright blue that they had always been. Well, always since Mako and Jenova, anyway. They burned, too; he could feel it, like acid in his eyes, making them water like crazy, but he knew that part would pass. With what seemed like the strength it might take to move a few tons of bricks, he quickly brushed his teeth. He noted that the toothbrush was pink, which meant that his goddamn gums were bleeding again. He rinsed his mouth and spat out pink water.

The chill came, as it always did, and Cloud rubbed his hands down his arms and shivered. Then he rubbed his hands back up his arms, and froze. He felt as if the bottom of his stomach dropped out, and felt the bitter, awful fear, like a punch in the chest, that he was so used to, though somehow its impact never lessened.

_Maybe if I don't look. If I pretend for a while that I don't feel that, then it will be gone next time I look..._ Cloud considered trying to ignore it, but of course as always, the entire time, he would feel his heart pounding and his palms sweating, and that desperate fear that came with pretending.

Cloud took his time taking his shirt off. If he rushed, then that would mean he was panicking. If he was panicking, that would mean that there was something to panic about. He carefully hung the shirt up on a hook. He took a deep breath, then held his arms out under the bright bathroom light. It wasn't on his forearms, just the backs of his upper arms, and so faint that he could actually feel it more than he could see it, but there it was.

He ran his finger lightly down the back of one arm, feeling the slight ridges under the skin. Those were either feathers or scales, but whatever the hell they were, they were Jenova's, not his, and she was changing him again.

The loneliness was worse than the fear. He could tell Tifa, he could tell Nanaki or any of his friends, or the people who tried to help him, and they would talk to him and try to be helpful and say things like, "We're working on a way to make these cells dormant again," but at the end of the day, it was still just him. And her, of course.

Knowing that he was so goddamn different, and wanting so badly to be something, anything that made sense, was what had made him beg Hojo for a project number on that awful day.

Cloud laughed weakly, even though the memory hurt just a bit more than his body did just then. He had begged Hojo for a project number, and he had done it in front of everyone, as well. He barely remembered doing it, but he remembered the feeling. He had so badly wanted Hojo to accept him that day, to give him a place and a reason. Just the idea of it, and the thought of how gratified Hojo must have been, made him want to start spewing all over again. But there were only so many times he could curse Hojo, and anyway, he had killed the sick bastard, and that should have been enough.

It should have been.

"Cloud."

Cloud almost turned around to answer, then remembered that his eyes were probably still burning bright in the dim bathroom, and decided not to. What the hell was Tifa doing in the bathroom with him, anyway? The _bathroom_ of all places? Sure, he had probably been in too much of a rush to worship the porcelain gods to remember to lock the door, but did she have no decency? No decorum? No _respect_ for him, or was he just an object that needed to be tended...?

Cloud rubbed his hand over his face and scrubbed the back of his hand over his eyes. The burning was beginning to fade. He realized he wasn't being reasonable, he was being emotional. _Bad_ emotional, _angry_ emotional and _aggressive_ emotional, and none of those feelings were to the good. He quickly looked down into the white sink so she wouldn't see his eyes in the mirror.

"Yes, Tifa?" he said in a strained voice.

She took another step into the bathroom. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. Cloud, there are..." She hesitated as if trying to decide which tone to take with him. "Things are getting ready to happen," she said. "I guess you know what's going on."

Cloud nodded. "Yeah, Sephiroth," he said, trying for a strong and clear voice, and failing

(_failure_)

miserably.

"Sephiroth, the Turks...all of this in one day," Tifa said. "I'm afraid of what comes next."

(_jenova_)

"Me too," he said.

She was very still as she stood in the doorway. Then he heard her lean against the frame and even that slight sound seemed too loud. She was trying to be as casual and calm as she could.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

Cloud sighed through his teeth. "Not one of my better days," he said. "But...I think I can get it under control,"

(_if you just leave me the hell alone you stupid intrusive_)

(_stop it_!)

He took a deep breath and fought the words in his head. He knew they weren't his own, but they came on their own, acted like his thoughts, and spoke in his own voice.

"...If I can just take a few minutes, I can get it under control again."

"Cloud, you don't even have to see him if you don't want to. Barret and I, I'm sure together we can..."

She stopped, and he heard her sharp intake of breath. He was still afraid to turn around, and when he opened his eyes, he could see clear blue light in the white sink. God, how bright _were_ they? The entire sink looked blue.

"Oh, Cloud," she nearly moaned, and he could hear sick fear in her voice. She walked over to him and barely touched his back.

"Don't," he snapped. He wanted to know what she had seen that made her sound like that. He wanted to know, but he did know, actually. There was no point in pretending he didn't know. He might not be certain of the details, but surely the Jenova cells were active and had manifested themselves into something horrible, something bad enough to make Tifa sound as sick as he felt. His insides felt hot and weak.

She touched him anyway, and aside from the intrusion

(_just like everyone else_)

(_object_)

(_failure_)

it hurt like knives. He flinched, and turned to glare at her, forgetting about his eyes until he saw that her face was lit with an electric blue glow. It made the tears standing in her eyes look dyed.

"Oh my god, Cloud," she said shakily.

"You're not making this any easier."

"Cloud, your back...Turn around."

He tried masking his panic with impatience as he did what she asked. This time she ran both her hands down his back, light as two feathers, and he twisted away from her. It hurt like hell, and Cloud drew his breath in between his clenched teeth. "Jesus, Tifa, do you really need to..."

"Oh my god," she said again, and her voice was full of both horror and wonder.

"Well, what is it?" he snapped, although he had an idea that he already know. Oh lord yes; he was sure he already knew.

(_savior_)

The image he got was terrible and awful: an inhuman

(_Savior_)

figure, frightening and sad at the same time. Sephiroth...

(_SAVIOR_)

Sephiroth, twisted and hovering over him, an aura of light around him like a halo or a ring around the moon.

And wings. White, brittle, iridescent and absolutely wrong.

Cloud leaned over the sink, surprised to see his own tears falling into it. "Go away," he said. "Tifa, go away," he added, in case she was unsure of whom he was addressing.

She didn't stand down. He could feel her adopting her resolute pose. "No," she growled. "I'm not afraid of her."

Cloud turned back to her, this time making sure she was looking into his eyes. "Isn't it enough that _I'm_ afraid her her?"


	11. chapter eleven

_Pointless author's notes:_

_This section has some personal meaning to me, because this is where I began writing again last January, after taking, what, 3 years away from it? 4? Something like that. It might have a different tone to it, perhaps even a different style. Three years can change a writer._

_This is also where I more or less figured out where I was going with this story, so pretty soon there should be something resembling an actual plot, I think. Or hope, anyway._

_In this chapter: Reeve makes it to Cosmo Canyon, and Cid has a line which I'm admittedly proud of, because it still makes me giggle. _

_And, ahh, flashbacks. Don't ya love 'em? ;) Heaven knows I do. I sometimes think that I'd be better off writing a series of FFVII vignettes, but then I'd have a huge bunch of them scattered around. I like the idea of flashbacks in a longer story. I think that it offers insight into characters (or in fanfic, why the writer chose a particular route of characterization,) as well as adding some depth to the story._

_All of which is total bullcrap, because the real reason for this flashback is that I'm a ShinRa fangirl and I was on a Reno kick when I wrote this chapter. Hackery at its finest. ;D I'm very fond of the idea of backstories on Reno, but I find that most of them are the same old fanon: Reno is a poor kid from the slums who's got some sort of traumatic backgroundusually abuse and often sexualand joins ShinRa to escape it all. Then he invariably becomes an alcoholic or a drug addict. Someone in powerusually Rufusexploits Reno's inherent weakness and rapes him, and then Reno runs to Rude and they make hotthott healing luuurv because everyone in the world is TEH GEI!1_

_I have no problem admitting that I'm sick of that story and I really wanted to go another way with Reno. He is a smartass; that's canon. He's a sloppy dresser, that's canon. But I think that Reno must also be smart and fun, too. And I don't necessarily think he's got some tragic past, either._

_Oh, one more thing. Uhh, yah...I see now from the Advent Children screens, as do we all, that those are not scars on Reno's face as most of us guessed, but rather tattoos. But when I started posting this, I decided that I was going to keep it the way I had originally written it, before AC came along, and so damnit, I will. ;)_

_So, here we go._

_

* * *

_

**Reeve**

The sun was setting as Reeve descended the last hill before the stairs to Cosmo Canyon. It made the parched, red dirt all around him look like blood. _An ill omen,_ Elmyra would have said. _Blood on the horizon._

And sometimes he remembered her eyes, and how Aerith's eyes had always reminded him of Elmyra's, though he knew that there was no blood relation between them.

_Blood relation...blood on the horizon...Goddamn blood on your shirt..._

Reeve looked down at his tattered clothes and wasn't entirely surprised to see that he was bleeding again. He supposed it was the only time in his life since Meteor that he had ever wished that Sephiroth was around. The bastard could heal, damn him.

Talking to Sephiroth like a normal person again had been beyond strange. Cursing him to his face had been so surreal that a part of him wanted to wonder if he hadn't dreamed it all. But then, there was Sephiroth's cloak to consider. Reeve was wearing it. Perhaps he was still dreaming.

"Bastard could have gotten me something to eat," he muttered aloud. "Conjured some food...some water. Bastard."

He pulled his torn shirt and the cloak closer around him, wondering fleetingly if he wasn't symbolically trying to hold his insides in. He wondered what it looked like in there.

The sand was dry in his mouth. It took him a second to realize that, and another second to wonder why there was sand in his mouth. Reeve opened his eyes and saw that he was on the ground. He had no memory of falling. One moment he had been wondering what his insides looked like, and the next, he'd been eating this dry, red dirt.

"Jesus. It must be 'collapse at the entrance to Cosmo Canyon' day," said a voice from above him.

"It is," Reeve answered, though he had no idea whom he was answering or why they'd said that. "I like to observe all the minor holidays."

Someone turned him over onto his back. "Wow. Something made a mess of your shirt."

"Yeah..." Reeve said, too tired to open his eyes. The other person didn't sound like he was about to kill him. The voice sounded familiar. "A piece of NeoNeoMidgar and some kind of...of metal thing. Shame. Good shirt."

"You look like shit."

Reeve finally opened his eyes, because if he was going to make a snarky return comment to the person, he had to at least know what he looked like and maybe base it on that. He couldn't quite focus, but he didn't need to. The blond hair and the goggles were all he needed to see.

"Oh," was all he could think of to say in his relief. "Cid."

"I'd ask you how you've been, but I guess I already know the answer."

"I've been better but I've already gotten some help from..." With sudden panic, he remembered why he had come here. He sat up too quickly and had to grab onto Cid's arm to keep from falling back down. "Sephiroth... Christ, Cid, Sephiroth is back, it's really him, not just a clone, he's here to see Cloud, he seems..."

"I know, I know," Cid said, and took Reeve by the arm. "It's all good. That's why I'm here. They got your message through Cait Sith and they radioed for me while I was on the Highwind. Come on." Cid was slipping his arm around Reeve and trying to haul him up. "You gotta help me here; I ain't carrying you up all these stairs."

"Right," Reeve said, and stood up with Cid's help.

"So," Cid said in a conversational tone as he braced Reeve up the first step, "you've seen Sephiroth?"

"Seen him. Was with him. Talked a long time."

"Talked," Cid said, surprised. "Well that's different. He do this to you?"

_Yes!_ Reeve wanted to scream. _The murderous bastard came back and did this; we have to kill him!_

"No," was what he ended up saying. But he refused to tell Cid that Sephiroth had helped him. That he had saved his life.

"The ShinRa's here," Cid said.

"ShinRa?"

"Well, the Turks."

"Oh," Reeve said. "Turks aren't ShinRa anymore. Anymore than I am. Anymore than you are."

_And thank god they're alive_, he added mentally. But he didn't want to say anymore about them, because he wasn't certain how much Cid knew about Midgar, or their possible involvement in its destruction, which he still didn't entirely believe. _And now you're keeping secrets. Isn't this just like old times?_ he thought grimly.

"Right, well..." Cid said, "Anyway, they saw Sephiroth, too."

"No shit?" Reeve said.

"Maybe, maybe not. That's what they say. They're wanted."

Reeve turned his head so that he could see Cid's face. It was hard to read him by his voice. "Wanted? By whom? For what?"

"By...I don't know, New ShinRa's authorities I guess, whoever the hell they are. For blowing the living Christ out of Midgar."

Reeve stopped putting one foot in front of the other and Cid had to catch him around the waist so he didn't fall backwards down the stairs. He was glad that his first reaction hadn't been to believe that the Turks had been out to destroy his city, but rather to wonder why other people believed it. Sephiroth had said that naïveté was endearing but useless. Reeve believed in hoping for the best while being prepared for the worst.

"How'd you hear about this?" Reeve asked.

"Saw it on the TV. Goddamned Scarlet with pictures of them, saying that they'd had their confessions on tape but the Turks had escaped and destroyed the tape she had..."

"SCARLET!" Reeve tried to bellow, but only managed to rasp. "Goddamned Scarlet? Scarlet?"

"Yeah, Scarlet. Reeve, settle down, you're gonna make us fall."

"Scarlet? Cid, _Scarlet_!"

Reeve wasn't exactly sure why he could do nothing but repeat her name in outrage, but the damned thing seemed to want to keep coming out. Of course she'd had something to do with it. She could only have been framing the Turks for one reason: she was responsible. _He_ had sent the Turks on the mission without checking it out. And if, for some reason, the Turks really had destroyed NeoNeoMidgar, then _he_ had destroyed NeoNeoMidgar, which would apparently have to be NeoNeoNeoMidgar in the future. Scarlet had played _him_.

But how had she gotten the power? How had she gotten the information? And even more appalling

"How'd she get on television!" Reeve said as Cid hauled him up the last step.

"Jesus, Reeve, calm down, will ya? Don't make me slap you! I don't know how she got on television. Had someone tape her is my guess."

"That bitch!" Reeve said. He realized with no small surprise that he was laughing. It felt great to shout, or at least to try to shout. It felt great to call her that. It felt great to be in Cosmo Canyon with Cid.

Cid turned him around and held him at arms' length, looking at him critically. Reeve found this even funnier.

Cid rolled his eyes. "Great," he said. "That's just brilliant. Your psycho ass will be a huge help. Glad to have you aboard."

Reeve laughed so hard that Cid had to catch him.

* * *

**Cloud Strife**

"Bitch," Reeve was muttering at intervals as he paced the small, dark room. His voice was quiet and even.

Cloud didn't like that voice. It sounded too much like his own, when he was fighting the good fight for control.

Tifa shifted uncomfortably on the sofa next to Cloud, while Barret and Cid sat on chairs across from them. Nanaki sat in the corner, occasionally watching Reeve with his one good eye. This was Tifa's office at the Shildra, and Cloud liked what she had done with it. It was warm, quiet, comfortable and clean. It smelled vaguely of scented candles and Tifa's rosemary shampoo. Sometimes he fell asleep on her sofa.

"We'll have to get the Turks' story, too," Cloud said. "I know that Scarlet is behind this thing with Midgar..."

"NeoNeoNeoNeoNeoMidgar," Reeve said quietly, and pivoted on his heel to pace the other way.

Everyone in the room turned to look at him, and Nanaki seemed about to say something, but Cloud thought it best to let Reeve work this out in his own time. He shook his head, subtly signaling Nanaki to keep quiet. Only he did wish that Reeve would sit down. The pacing was annoying.

"Cloud," Tifa began as she shifted to face him, "is Scarlet responsible for Sephiroth's return?"

Cloud felt a shiver run down his arms and back at the mention of the name; it had less to do with fear than with the cells that had acted up earlier. He thought it over before answering. "It could be, but I don't think so. If she was the one who destroyed the cloning facility..."

"That's only according to the Turks," Tifa said.

"Bradburn," Reeve said. "He came to me with the deal. I destroyed the city. I sent the mission to them."

"But you didn't know what the mission was, and you didn't know it was under Midgar." Nanaki said.

"Reckless as shit, Reeve," Barret said.

"Goddamnit, I know that!" Reeve was about to continue, when his PHS rang. He jumped back like a startled cat before he realized what the noise was.

Everyone waited expectantly while Reeve dug it out of his pocket and answered, and everyone listened to the one-sided conversation:

"Oh! Well, yes. Yes, I am. I can't tell you where, just that I'm alive and I'm doing what... I know that. I know that, too. Look, there was gil left over from the arcade, and you can still get emergency funding, and start the evacuation, that's very important... Well I know that, Fletcher, but I spent most of the day lying under a piece of NeoMidgar with a metal spike through my goddamned kidney!"

For a moment, they could all hear the other man's voice rise in panic; Cloud could make out the words, "Jesus Christ are you okay?"

"Yes, but I'm...Fletcher, I'm trying to solve this before it happens again. No, they haven't found who's responsible." He stopped and glanced around the room with an uncharacteristic challenge in his eyes as if daring anyone to refute this.

In spite of it everything that had happened, Cloud had to smile. Reeve could be such an idiot sometimes.

"Right. Continue with the evacuation, in that case," Reeve went on. "I want every last person out of there. The shelter outside of NeoMidgar is incomplete, but it'll do for now. Tell the press that I'm...Just tell them I was in NeoMidgar when it happened and I'm still missing... I know it's risky, just trust me. Okay. Yes, soon. Okay. Thanks."

And with that, he hung up.

Cid was smiling and shaking his head. "Quick politics, Reeve," he said. "'What To Do If My City Gets Blown Up, in ten words or less.'"

"Shut up, Cid," Reeve said, and shoved the PHS back into his pocket.

"Well, hate to move on after that, but...moving on?" Cid said.

"Bradburn," Tifa said.

"Sent by Scarlet," Cloud added. "And so far, that's all we know."

Reeve sat down heavily in the corner and ran his hands through his hair, which was stringy and caked with blood and sand. He clearly needed to wash and rest.

"Look," Cloud said in what he hoped was a gentle way, "why don't we take a break until everyone's..."

"The Turks will know more," Reeve said.

Everyone was quiet, waiting for him to go on. Cloud felt Tifa tense beside him, and he put his hand on her arm out of habit. He sometimes felt as if he had to hold her off. She could be dangerously defensive. He couldn't blame her for it.

"Let me go and talk to them," Reeve said.

Everyone looked at Cloud, and it amazed him that they still somehow thought of him as their leader in these sorts of decisions.

He didn't have to think twice about his answer. Reeve meant well, could be shrewd when it suited him, and could take care of himself. "I trust everyone here," Cloud said.

Tifa dropped her head into her hand in exasperation. "Last time you said that, Cloud..."

"Last time I said that was two weeks ago. If you mean the first time I said that when we were all together, then just remember how different things were back then." He waited for her to look up at him, and then gave her his most confident smile. He could never understand why, but no matter what else was going on with him (or in him,) his confidence in something was enough to win her over. He was both amazed and incredibly guilty over this. As usual, she smiled back.

"Go on, Reeve," Cloud said. "Then get some rest, and let us know what you know. We're going to have to deal with the Turks sooner or later, and deal with them neutrally. I'm okay with that. If anyone's not okay with it, then they don't have to be there."

Everyone nodded tiredly. God, again, their little group was so tired. Cloud was tired, too. It had been a long, lonely day. But for then, The Bitch was gone. He didn't want to think her name, because sometimes that was enough to call her voice back into his head. The Bitch was gone, and maybe he could rest for a while.

Reeve got up slowly, bracing himself against the wall as he did so.

"They're on the bottom floor," Nanaki said. "I'll take you to them, Reeve. When Reisei shows up, we might have to leave."

"Reisei?"

"Healer. You should see her, too."

"Don't you have, uhh, any doctors?" Reeve asked.

"I don't like doctors," Cloud replied. He smiled as well as he could to try to offset what he had said, and left it at that.

Reeve looked startled, and didn't seem to know how to answer that. Rather than flounder awkwardly for a way, he just nodded and turned to follow Nanaki.

Reeve closed the door behind them, and Cid, Barret and Tifa were silent for a moment.

"Well," Barret said, but didn't follow it up with anything.

Cloud would later remember that it was Tifa who said the last thing he heard before it hit him. Before _The Bitch_ hit him like...Well, rather like Meteor, he thought.

"We should call Yuffie," she said.

And then Cloud thought about the other person who wasn't here, and whom she hadn't mentioned. He was the one no one mentioned, because mentioning him made Her want him to come back.

(_To regroup._)

This one person and Cloud were better off far apart, shame that it was.

But Sephiroth was likely on his way to Cosmo Canyon, for whatever reason. Cid had flown in, and Tifa was going to call Yuffie. Cloud knew there was going to be a confrontation; he just didn't know who would be confronting whom (or what,) or what they would use to fight.

But he wasn't getting better, and suddenly he knew that it was time.

He'd broken out in a sweat, but was determined to say it calmly.

_I think it's time to call Vincent Valentine. I think it's time to ask him to come here. I think we should be together and see what She can do, and what we can do to Her_.

He opened his mouth to say these things, but She had heard him, and he felt Her joy and her triumph.

(_reunion_)

_No_, he tried to say. He put his hands on his head in a futile effort to block her out, but all he could hear was the high-pitched, blood pressure ring of her presence.

(_REUNION_)

She pushed him to his knees. He felt Tifa's hands on his back, and what might have been Cid's hands on his arm, trying to pull him back up.

He knew that somewhere far away, Vincent Valentine was likely feeling the same call. He would probably try to block it out. Cloud had to tell Tifa that it was time to bring him here. He hoped she would believe that it was him talking, and not Her, but he could feel the light burning in his eyes and he knew she wouldn't trust his words.

"Vincent," he said, as he turned his face up to her, hoping that she would see that he was still here, still in possession of his will and his voice.

Through the overbright haze of light between them, he saw her shake her head "no," a desperate look on her face. Cid was kneeling before him, and in what seemed like the far distance, Barret was trying to pull Cid away. He couldn't hear what they were saying.

(_REUNION_!)

"Vincent," Cloud managed again.

Tifa looked afraid, and he knew what she was thinking. He had to convince her that it was him talking.

"The well," he managed, before She wrapped her cold hand around his throat and squeezed. She didn't want him talking. She wanted to be the one doing the talking. With a snarl, he pushed Her back. "The stars," he said.

Tifa put both hands on his face, and Cloud saw that she was crying. Finally, she nodded.

"Call Vincent," he said.

As She covered his eyes and he fought to keep Her away from the others, he hoped that Tifa was armed to cast Sleep on him before She made him do anything bad to anyone.

* * *

**The Turks**

Nanaki led Reeve to the door, then backed away. He hadn't said a word to Reeve on their way to the room, and Reeve was so tired that he hadn't even noticed. He'd almost felt as if he was walking alone.

"Thanks," he said to Nanaki, who had already turned to walk away. Nanaki turned back and acknowledge him with a nod.

Reeve stood at the door for a full minute, ready to knock but hesitating. They were probably asleep.

And Tseng was in there. He had no idea what he would do when he saw Tseng, but he felt strangely calm about the whole thing. Perhaps more numb than calm. He knew he couldn't wait until morning.

He shifted his weight and heard the floorboard creak beneath him. Immediately after, he heard a floorboard in the room creak, too.

"Who's there?" Elena said from the other side of the door.

Reeve tried to speak, found his throat too dry, and managed to rasp his name. He was dismayed to note that he sounded as pathetic as he felt.

Elena opened the door and stepped back. In a light blue, cheap robe with the words "Shildra Inn" embroidered next to the lapel, she looked pale and tired. The lights were dim, but he could discern a scrape across one cheek and a bruise across the other.

However, Reeve quickly saw that she wasn't the worst off. Rude was asleep on the sofa, and he looked just as battered as she did. Reno was clearly shivering under a pile of blankets on one bed, and Tsengwho had seemingly not aged since Reeve had last seen himlooked more unconscious than asleep on the other bed. His hands were tied together and bound to the headboard. Reeve could only stare and wonder what the hell had happened. Which brought him back to why he had come to see them.

"Elena," he said.

She responded by putting her face in her hands and weeping quietly. "Midgar," she said between sobs.

"Oh," Reeve saidand quite stupidly, he thought. "Yes. Midgar."

Elena looked up and, in a surprisingly unsettling gesture, bit her knuckles to keep from sobbing again. She looked at Reeve with bright, shocked eyes. "I didn't know," she mumbled. "I'm so sorry."

He knew that Tifa would have sneered, and, hell, probably Sephiroth would have, too. Cloud, on a good day, might have weighed the situation carefully before deciding what to believe and what to feel about what he believed. But Reeve believed her right away, and to hell with what anyone might have thought about that. The Turks had destroyed a part of his city, and likely killed a number of innocent people. But they hadn't known what they were doing, and even though it didn't put things right, he couldn't condemn her for it.

Not in the place they'd come from, where activists blew up Mako reactors in the name of saving the Planet. He hated destruction, but he understood sacrifice just as well as she did. And after having designed the plate over Midgar, and having spent years both working for ShinRa and in the acquaintance of Cloud Strife, he understood mistakes very well, too.

Reeve took a few stumbling steps across the room and put his arms around her. She was so small. He'd never noticed before how small she was without her ridiculously high (yet ridiculously functional) shoes on. She smelled like cheap bar soap and hotel shampoo.

"I didn't know," she said again.

"I know you didn't. I didn't either. But I sort of needed to hear you say it."

She nodded against his shirt, wiped her eyes, and pulled away from him. As she did so, she looked at his shirt for the first time.

"Jesus, Reeve," she whispered. "What happened to you?"

Reeve cringed. He knew that the truth would hurt her, and there was no sense in lying. But he still had to shift his eyes away from her when he said it, as if, for some reason, it was his fault. "I was in Midgar when it happened."

She stared at him as she pieced it together in her exhausted mind. "And you were hurt? How were you hurt?"

"It's not important."

"I want to know," she said. Her voice had risen above a whisper, and Rude stirred on the sofa.

Reeve stared at the floor, focusing on a water-stained board. He guessed that the pipes above must have leaked at some time. He decided that Tifa should put rugs down over the hardwood floors. Yes, that would look nice. Light blue rugs to match the robes, and...

"Reeve?"

Reeve snapped back to attention. "I, ah... The ground caved in, I guess. I don't know. Something went through my back. I'm okay now."

Tentatively but resolutely, Elena reached out for Reeve's shirt. When she grabbed the bottom of it and started to lift it, he realized what she was doing and stopped her hands.

"It's okay," he said.

She nodded and withdrew her hands. "How did you get here?"

_Midgar concrete nightmares Sephiroth airship...Sephiroth..._

He found that he couldn't tell her. He was too tired to go over it again. "That's a long story. Tell you later."

She nodded again and backed off. "Reno figured it out at the last second. Reeve, he tried to defuse the bombs. They were Scarlet's bombs and they were only supposed to take out the body factory, they didn't look capable of much more, but god, we should have recognized her work." She glanced at Reno, then looked back to Reeve. "He just went insane when he realized, Reeve."

Reeve looked at Reno, who seemed to be no more than a pile of moving blankets with a stream of red hair on top. Reno had been sick after the first time he'd destroyed a section of Midgar, too, only at the time, Reeve had figured he deserved it. This time, knowing what he knew, he could only imagine the guilt of having done it twice. Reno's home had been there, too.

He looked from Reno to Tseng. There just had to be a reason why Tseng was tied to the bed, and he didn't think it was a good time to tease Elena about it. Though an admittedly immature part of him wanted to.

"Um, Elena?" he said as he looked at Tseng.

"Oh. Right." Reeve looked at her and saw that she was smirking. "It's not what you think."

He had to smile back at her. His smile faded, however, when she explained it to him.

"Tseng's been working with Scarlet, and..."

"What?" Reeve hissed. He was aware that he really had hissed, but he couldn't help it. Just the sound of her name made him angry.

"Well...Well we don't think he meant to. I mean, what I'm saying is, he's not himself. He doesn't remember anything. Well, for a second he remembered Reno, but I'm not even sure if he knows his name. He really is Tseng and he still sort of acted like himself, but it was like he was"

She had stopped abruptly, and she stood in the center of the room looking startled by something.

"What?"

"It was like he was confused," she said.

Reeve stared. Obviously Tseng was confused if he didn't even remember Reno, but Elena had just had a revelation of some sort. He waited patiently to hear what it was. "And?" he prompted when she didn't seem inclined to tell him.

"No, Reeve," she said quietly, walking up to him again. "I mean, it was like he was Confused. Confused, you know? Status Materia?"

It took a full second before Reeve got what she was saying. "Oh!" he said. "But, you know...for all those years?"

They walked together over to Tseng's bed. Elena sat on one side of the bed and Reeve sat on the other as he took his first good look at Tseng since finding him in the Temple of the Ancients. If he was honest with himself, he'd have to admit that Tseng didn't look different at all. He looked just as wasted and just as young.

But no matter what he looked like, Reeve couldn't quite believe he was seeing him again. He'd suspected Tseng to be alive all these years, and hadn't considered the possibility of not seeing him again, and yet actually seeing him was a surprise. Even in the present situation, he found he was glad.

Elena shifted her weight to turn to Reeve, and the bedsprings creaked. She didn't see Tseng open his eyes.

"Reeve, do you think"

"Wait," he whispered.

Tseng's irises were a murky, bright green, as if he'd recently been hit with a tremendous blast of Mako. Reeve could hardly see their natural color underneath, and his pupils were covered, too. Tseng looked at Reeve for a long time, but didn't show any sign of recognition. Elena kept quiet beside them.

After a long moment, Tseng left off his unsettling perusal of Reeve's face and looked up to where his hands were bound. Then he looked again at Reeve.

"Did you do this?" he asked in a whisper.

"No," Reeve said. "Tseng, sir, do you remember me?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. "Reeve, what happened? Where's Aerith? Did she make it out safely?"

Reeve had no way of answering that. All at once he felt regret, pity, and guilt about not having known where Tseng had been all these years, and not having bothered to look for him. It had never occurred to him that he might be in trouble. Though "trouble" didn't seem to cover it.

Tseng pulled down on the rope that bound his hands, grabbed the loose end, gave it and his hands a twist, and freed himself. Reeve heard Elena gasp.

"Tseng, sir," she said. "I'm sorry I had to do that."

Tseng finally looked at her. "Elena," he said. "If you had pulled the loose end out of my reach I wouldn't have been able to do that."

Elena smiled. "You remember me?"

Tseng seemed about to answer, then remembered that Reeve had asked him the same thing. There was confusion in his eyes as he looked quickly between them. "Why do you ask?" he said.

"Tseng," Reeve said, seeing that Elena couldn't seem to think of anything to say. Elena could probably hand Reeve his ass in a fight, but talking things through was his strong point. "Tseng, there's a lot you don't know. It's going to take a while to tell you everything."

"Who's dead?" he asked. He braced himself on his palms and pulled himself up. Elena put her hand on his shoulder to push him back down, but he swatted her away and leaned up against the headboard. He looked around the room, at Rude, at Reno, and at Elena, in an obvious, well-practiced head count of his Turks. Then he sat back, a bit more at ease. The fact that they were his first priority was a good sign.

"Tseng, I don't even know how to start," Elena said.

"Just tell me straight out. Someone's dead. I've been injured somehow and I have no memory of what came before this. So just tell me straight out."

Reeve thought it best to start with the most obvious question. Apparently Elena did, too, because they simultaneously asked him, "What's the last thing you remember?"

And that was good; it forced him to think instead of just listening to them babble.

Tseng thought. He took his time, staring at the opposite wall. His eyes glowed in the dim room, more vibrantly than any Mako eyes that Reeve had ever seen. He looked inhuman, and the effect was made worse by the fact that he didn't know how frightening he looked. For that moment, in the cold, dark room at the Shildra, Tseng was a nightmare who inspired pity and fear. Reeve would never forget the solid green of his eyes.

"I remember a lot," he said, "but I'm having trouble telling reality from dreams." He looked at Reeve, shaken but determined. He blinked, then looked again. Narrowing his eyes, he put his hand on Reeve's face. Reeve was too surprised by this gesture to move.

Tseng turnedwith a speed that Reeve should have been ready for, but wasn'ttowards Elena, making her start back. He stared at her, and then touched her face, as well. Then he held his own hand in front of his face.

Reeve understood, and Elena must have as well, when Tseng stared at the green glow on his hand.

"Mako," he whispered. "I have Mako poisoning."

"Yeah," Elena said. "I'd say you do. I suspect that you've been hit repeatedly with Status Materia."

Tseng dropped his hand and looked at Elena. "Of what sort?"

"Confusion, is my guess." She tucked her leg under her and held his gaze, tiredly but with determination that matched his own. "When I say 'hit repeatedly,' sir, I mean, for long periods of time with no comedown. That's just a guess, sir."

"I see. How long do you suspect this has been going on, Elena? And do you know who might be responsible?"

Elena took a breath. She glanced at Reno, still sleeping fitfully under the blankets. She glanced at Rude, still sleeping quietly. Then once at Reeve, who nodded for her to continue. It seemed she was doing well enough without his help, and anyway, it might be better coming from Elena. It would be more like an official report to her boss.

"Scarlet, I think," she said. She didn't give him a chance to figure that out or react before going on. "And, it's been years, Tseng. I don't know if she had you with her the entire time since the last time I saw you, but I'm sure it's been years."

"How long since the last time you saw me?"

"Ten years," she said. Her eyes were dry and her voice was steady. "You're forty one years old. Aerith has been dead the entire time."

Tseng didn't show any surprise other than a slight parting of his lips. He looked away from Elena and down at the bedspread, where green light pooled in the creases. "I see," he said.

Reeve didn't think it was a good time to tell him everything that had happened since, and what was going on now. He knew that Tseng should know as much as possible before anything big started to go down (and he had a feeling that would be soon,) but it would take too long to tell. It looked to him like everyone needed sleep more than anything else.

"Tseng, sir," he said, "maybe for right now we should all get some sleep."

Tseng continued staring at the bed. After a moment, the green light disappeared, and Reeve could see that he had closed his eyes. He wondered if he'd already fallen asleep.

"Tseng?" he said.

Elena was already getting up, and Reeve saw that she looked uneasy. "Reeve, you'd better"

Before she could finish, Tseng had grabbed her by the throat. He was on his feet before Reeve could react, and had pinned Elena against the wall.

"What part of my orders was unclear?" he asked.

Reeve jumped across the bed and grabbed Tseng by the shoulders, trying to pull him away from Elena. When that failed, he grabbed Tseng by the arm and tried to at least get his hands off her throat. He knew that he was saying something urgently to Tseng, trying to get his attention, but he wasn't clear on what he was saying. Elena raised her knee and caught Tseng right under the sternum, but it didn't seem to have any effect.

Reeve felt himself being shoved aside, and a second later, Reno was on Tseng's back, trying to fight his arms down. Rude had taken Elena around the waist and pulled her away from the wall. Tseng had nothing to brace himself on and sprawled under Reno, who had one knee on his boss's back and one hand on the back of his head, while his free hand tried to grab hold of Tseng's arms.

Tseng rolled over, taking Reno with him, and then turned around, pinning the slighter Turk. Reeve began to climb across the bed to reach them, thinking only to stop Tseng from doing whatever it was he was about to do to Reno. Rude, who was holding Elena up as she gasped for breath, frantically waved for Reeve to stay where he was.

Reno was still. Reeve suspected that he didn't even have it in him to fight anymore, if Tseng seemed inclined to continue. Even his lips were white.

Tseng had one hand on Reno's chest while the other hand gripped both of Reno's wrists.

"Reno?" he said.

Reno allowed himself a sigh of relief. "Yes, sir."

"This is not an attempt on your life," Tseng said. "Stop fighting. I took them both out."

"Yes, sir." A pause. No one moved. "Tseng, sir..."

Tseng hesitated, looked up to the ceiling, then looked back at Reno and gave him a shake. Reeve heard Reno's head hit the floor with a sharp crack. "That's not right," Tseng said.

"Oh, ah" Reno began. He thought frantically for a moment. For some reason, he seemed to have a kind of revelation just then. He composed himself and said, "They're from SOLDIER. They're ShinRa."

"Yes, I know," Tseng said. "I'm from ShinRa, too."

"Shit," Reno said.

Reeve looked at Rude and Elena to see if they knew what the hell was going on. Elena still seemed to be confused, but Rude looked as if he had just understood something. Reeve was about to ask him what it was, but Rude shook his head and motioned for him to be quiet.

"I think I have...I think I have a job for you, Mr. Callaghan," Tseng said. "Are you interested?"

Then Reno came out with something that made Reeve wonder if he was dreaming the whole incident. "Sorry, commander," he said, "I don't go that way. Try third street."

Tseng laughed, and leaned closer to Reno. "They're going to kill you anyway. But you're free to go."

"Wait," Reno said. "I guess it won't hurt to listen. But make it quick."

"Good," Tseng said. "Because I...I can help you. I can help you help yourself."

Then he stood up, swayed, and fell onto the floor.

Reno groaned. Elena and Rude went to help him up.

"Good thing about your memory, Reno," Rude said.

He and Elena each offered him a hand, which he at first ignored. "This," he said.

"Come on, Reno," Elena said.

"This SUCKS!" Reno shouted. He pulled himself to his feet without help. "Oh," he said, when he saw Reeve. Then he sank to the bed with his head in his hands.

"Look," Reeve said quickly, "Reno, I know all about what happened."

"Yeah," Reno said. "Yeah, we've been here before, too. Sorry for blowing up your city."

Elena sat beside him on the bed and put her arm around him. Rude put his hand on Reno's shoulder, and looked Reeve over sadly. He looked oddly helpless. Then he moved to where Tseng was lying on the floor, checked his pulse, and set about tying his hands again.

Reeve stood in stunned silence, numbly looking over the four Turks. He'd never thought he'd see them like this, and he'd certainly never expected to see Reno cry.

* * *

_The boy wasn't head and shoulders above Sephiroth, but he was tall, and his bright hair made him stand out. He was obviously used to the attention, so much so that he probably couldn't go long periods of time without it. He needed it in place of accomplishments. He probably hadn't had too many of those in his life; he looked like a classic underachiever. But everyone was capable of change, and anyway, that look seemed to be slightly feigned. There was something to this kid._

_Sephiroth had stopped in front of the kid as he walked past a line of new SOLDIER recruits._

_"Name?" Sephiroth said. He leaned elegantly on the hilt of his sword. It was standard SOLDIER issue, and not the Masamune that he only carried on missions._

_"Reno, sir."_

_"One more time. Your name?"_

_"Oh. Callaghan, sir."_

_"Mr. Callaghan," Sephiroth said. _

_From his vantage point on the second story window about the courtyard, Tseng could tell that the general was just about to go into one of his very quiet, occasionally subtle tirades. Tseng had seen him insult people so delicately that they sometimes didn't realize they had been insulted. They would stare at Sephiroth in wonder, amazed that he had even shown them a moment of attention. Sephiroth's wit, Tseng thought, was something like the Masamune: sharp, dangerous, and a work of art. However, in SOLDIER, he rarely had time for subtlety._

_"Did you have a mother?" Sephiroth asked the boy._

_There was a very slight change in the kid's attitude. He'd gone from nervous to defensive. "Yes, sir. She's dead."_

_"I wasn't enquiring after her health."_

_The boy's eyes widened, but not so much in fear or sadness as in surprise. And just a hint of anger. That interested Tseng. This young man had just shown a tiny flash of anger to _Sephiroth._ "What were you inquiring after?" he asked. Then he added, "Sir," not trying to mask the fact that it had been an afterthought._

_Sephiroth didn't have to move a muscle to show displeasure; all he had to do was stare. "I was going to ask you why she failed to teach you to stand up straight, actually," he said. "As most competent mothers teach their children."_

_None of the other cadets moved or even blinked. Tseng waited. What this kid did next would decide his future._

_Sephiroth and the kid stared at each other for just a moment. The kid was the first to look away, and Tseng counted that in his favor. Courage and stupidity were two separate things. Sephiroth looked away from him then, and continued walking. Then the kid did what Tseng had been waiting for him to do._

_"Fuck this," he said, and stepped out of the line._

_He had no idea that, had Tseng not been interested, this might have been his last day on the beautiful green Planet. People didn't mouth off to ShinRa's general and then walk away from SOLDIER with the little bit of knowledge they had gleaned from ShinRa Inc._

_But Tseng had been interested, and when the young man walked out of the courtyard, slouching away in his cadet uniform, Sephiroth hadn't watched him leave. Instead, he'd glanced for a fraction of a second up to the second story window._

_Tseng held up his hand. Sephiroth nodded, and went back to his inspection._

_

* * *

_

_"Rudolf," Tseng said, as the Turk passed him in the hallway, "a word with you, if you have a moment."_

_"Yes, sir," Rude answered, and followed Tseng down the hall to his office._

_Once inside, Rude waited for Tseng to motion towards the chair in clear invitation before he sat down. Tseng didn't sit. Instead he paced. It helped him think. It also meant that he was always higher up than the person he was talking to._

_"I'm sorry for the loss of your partner, Rude," Tseng said. He looked into the other man's eyes to check for his reaction. There was one. Good. It wouldn't do to for a Turk to become so inured to grief that he forgot how to feel it. Turks were valuable. Heidegger seemed to find them expendable, but Tseng knew their worth, and wanted them to fight always knowing that they had something to lose. "Lotte was a good woman; a good Turk."_

_"Yes, sir, she was."_

_"She had a partner. A girlfriend."_

_"Yes, sir."_

_"The girlfriend is being provided for."_

_Rude nodded. He looked as if he wanted to pull his sunglasses down over his eyes, but he didn't. He met Tseng's eyes steadily. "I'm glad," Rude said._

_Tseng leaned against his desk. He didn't have to think this over; he knew it was time. Heidegger had been on his case about it for weeks, telling him to just find someone, any punk or reject. Anyone expendable. But Turks were expensive and Tseng felt that they should last. Still, that didn't change the fact that it was time._

_"We are the only Turks left right now, Rude," Tseng said._

_Rude nodded._

_"So you know I have to find you a new partner, and soon."_

_Again, Tseng waited for a reaction, and again, he saw what he was looking for. Rude clearly wasn't ready for another partner, and that was also good. He had loyalty in his favor._

_"I've got a few soldiers lined up, and I want you to go with them to oversee the testing of a potential recruit. I'm sure you know how delicate this operation is, Rude, and I want you to make sure they don't go too far. These men can get clumsy. And I also need you to report to me what you see close-up. The boy has already seen me, I'm afraid, so my surveillance is going to have to be from a distance."_

_"I understand," Rude said. "Do you have a file on him?"_

_Tseng smiled slightly. Rude was nothing if not thorough. He wanted to know exactly what he was looking for. Tseng reached behind him to a file simply marked "Reno." He flipped through the pages, then handed it to Rude._

_"Reno?" Rude said. "That the kid's name?"_

_"It'll serve," Tseng said. "He's from Junon. Father was a construction worker and his mother worked for a newspaper. They're both deadhis mother most recentlyand he has no other close relations. He's got an uncle and two cousins, but he barely knows them. He's nineteen years old, and his psych shows nothing too terribly traumatic."_

_"In other words?"_

_"In other words, his past seems boring. I think he's strange, Rude, but he's not out of control. And he's smart. He tested really high, especially on analysis. He seems to have a vivid and accurate memory, too."_

_"Hmm," Rude said, and went back to his perusal of the file. He flipped through a few pages and read a little. "Red hair, six foot two...big kid."_

_"Scrawny," Tseng said._

_Rude went on reading. His brow creased, and Tseng knew that he'd found one of the subtly interesting things in the file. He'd told Rude that the boy's past seemed boring. It was up to Rude to look past the surface. As usual, Rude didn't fail him._

_"Identical scars on each side of his face." He looked up at Tseng. "That's not the kind of thing you get accidentally."_

_Tseng smiled. "That's the good part," he said. "No criminal record. He worked really briefly for a private detective. Surveillance and recon."_

_"Is that so?"_

_"It is. No one ever found out who did it to him or why. There are no police records of such an attack."_

_"Knows how to keep his mouth shut."_

_"Exactly. If someone was trying to get information from him by doing that, then chances are that they never got it."_

_Rude slapped the file shut and sat back. "When are we doing this?"_

_"Tonight. It has to be soon. He can't walk away from ShinRa. He was a SOLDIER cadet until today. Briefly, though. Five days."_

_"That doesn't sound promising. He get thrown out?"_

_"He's trying to walk," Tseng said. He couldn't help smiling about it just a little. The young man had no idea what he was getting into just by trying to leave it. But Rude still hadn't heard the best part._

_"Just walk? He just walked out?"_

_"During inspection this morning," Tseng said. "He took a tone with his superioralthough that doesn't quite cover what he actually saidand walked out."_

_Rude stifled a chuckle. Then Tseng watched his face as he remembered which superior had come down to check new recruits this particular day. His mouth dropped open slightly. After a moment, he also couldn't help smiling._

_"Holy shit," Rude said. "What an idiot."_

_

* * *

_

_And so, Tseng had set up surveillance from a window above an alley that Reno had to pass through on his way to his apartment. The fact that Reno lived in this particular part of Midgar and got home unscathed every night spoke of some kind of street knowledge, but more than that, it spoke of the message he sent out to others. It was a message that told people who might want to start trouble with him that it wasn't worth it: he wasn't a victim and didn't intend to be. Messing with him would be more trouble than it was worth._

_Tseng saw it in his bearing as he entered the alley. He didn't look down. He didn't look either smug or anxious; he just looked aware. Whatever was going on in his mind after having cleared out his personal belongings from ShinRa, Inc. and (or so Reno thought,) left for good, it would wait until he was home._

_Two soldiers were in position behind a dumpster. The kid didn't miss their presence, though he didn't see them. He could feel them intuitively. He was walking like a man who is aware that he's being watched._

_Rude waited, unseen, in a doorway to an abandoned warehouse. As Reno passed by, Rude opened a switchblade. It made the smallest noise of metal rasping out of its sheath._

_Without turning his head, Reno took a sly, sidelong glance to his side. Tseng was thrilled. Reno's hearing was good. His instinct was better. _

_Tseng felt the warm pull of intuition, and was glad for it. It told him that this boy would not fail his test. He was sure that he was looking at Rude's new partner. Already he was looking forward to training him. He hadn't trained a Turk in so long, and it was such an exultant feeling to watch them reach their potential. To see their surprise when they realized that they could do things they never thought they could do. He felt their joy along with them when they accomplished difficult tasks. He felt their pride when they saw the way their bodies were changing from weak to strong. He felt their astonishment when they realized that they had gained both physical and mental speed, especially in unexpected situations. He felt their fear when they realized that they would kill, and their horror when they realized that they could._

_Tseng smiled. All Reno had done was shift his eyes in response to a faint metallic sound, and Tseng already had visions of him in the dark navy suit. He wondered what they boy's weapon would be._

_The two soldiers stepped out from behind the dumpster. Reno now looked in the opposite directionagain, only with his eyes. Tseng knew that he was subtly looking for a weapon, but he didn't stop walking. He also didn't flinch away from eye contact with either man. They were strangers to him, and neither of them was in uniform._

_They were blocking his path, and Reno veered off to the side, the better to avoid unnecessary confrontation. That was also good. He wasn't looking for trouble._

_One of the soldiers stepped in front of him, and that was clearly a challenge._

_Reno looked up at the soldier. Tseng could tell he was unused to having to look up at someone, and it occurred to him that he'd better get used to it. Rude towered over all of them._

_"'Scuse me," Reno said. He said it without attitude, but he kept eye contact._

_Tseng saw him tense his back just a split second before the soldier reached out to grab him. Reno leapt backwards out of reach and darted over towards a plastic bag on the ground. He reached down, bringing his hand in a wide arc (Tseng was aware of the useless expenditure of movement; he would work with him on that,) and came up with a glass bottle that had been behind the bag._

_What made Tseng even gladder was that he didn't brandish it. Most people, when cornered, brandished their weapons, sometimes even announcing them: "I've got a knife!" or "I've got a gun!" or "I've got Materia!" In his head, Tseng heard the assailant's answering voice: "Yeah? Well now I've got it." But this boy held the bottle by the neck and turned around to run the other way. He was running for the street, where there might be witnesses._

_Rude stepped out in front of him. Reno didn't lose any points for not having been prepared for that. Rude was a fully trained Turk and Reno was a smart kid with no training. He tried to duck under Rude's arm but was too slow. Rude could be eerily fast for his size. He grabbed Reno by the neck, but didn't hold him. Instead, he pushed him down to the ground._

_Reno tried to get his feet under him as quickly as he could, but the two soldiers were bearing down on him quickly. He rolled out of the way (the soldiers, who were both ready for this move, let him do that,) and got up._

_All three of his assailants came at him quickly. Reno smashed the bottle on the wall behind himthere was no use in pretending that he didn't have a weapon at this pointand then brought it around in front of him._

_He showed no hesitation about slashing with it, but Tseng was surprised and a little annoyed to see that Reno had twirled it in his hand once before swinging it. That was a stupid thing to do. Tseng was slightly impressed that he had done it so fluidly, but it didn't change the fact that it was a wasteful gesture. _

_The first soldier grabbed Reno's wrist and twisted his hand so that the broken bottle fell out of it. Tseng could see that the soldier was bleeding from his hand; Reno had at least drawn blood. First blood, no less. Reno dropped the bottle and kicked. He went right for the groin. That failing, he straightened the fingers of his free hand, and went for the soldier's eye. He missed by a fraction of an inch, and did manage to make the man lose his grip on Reno's wrist. _

_Reno hadn't yet noticed that these men hadn't hurt himthey had only disarmed him, while Rude stood behind them, watching. But it was wise to assume that people wanted to hurt you if they cornered you in an alley and pushed you around. Reno had no reason to believe that his life wasn't in danger. _

_Reno was trying to run, but the other soldier circled around to his front, balanced his weight in a fighting stance, and took a swing at him. It split his lip and Reno stumbled. He looked up from behind a curtain of straggly red hair. Tseng had recognized the soldier's move from his ShinRa training. Reno had, as well. It clearly marked Reno's assailant as a Soldier. Tseng saw revelation in his eyes, followed by fear._

_"Oh, shit," Reno whispered. _

_It was his moment of distraction, and he didn't hear the soldier behind him. The soldier pushed Reno, meaning to make him fall to the ground again. Reno, though taken by surprise, still reacted quickly enough to save himself the fall. He landed on top of the soldier who was in front of him. The soldier fell with him, and started screaming. _

_Tseng couldn't see what was happening, but when the second soldier pulled Reno off, he could venture a guess. Reno already had blood around his mouth from his split lip, but now the soldier had blood on his arm._

_"Bastard!" the soldier screamed, as he got to his feet. _

_The soldier behind Reno grabbed his arms and held them back, while the other one stood up, accessed his materia, and hit Reno with Ice. The sound of it was terrible, like icicles splintering his bones._

_Rude shouted, "That's enough!" but as Reno fell, the soldier got back into his fighting stance and elbowed Reno in the chest. Tseng heard the unmistakable sound of bones splintering._

_"Enough!" Rude said again, as he pulled the soldier away. The one who'd been holding Reno still let him drop. Tseng didn't have to see any more. He slid out of the window and climbed down the fire ladder. From the alley below, he could hear the soldier saying, "Bastard bit me! Bastard bit me!" Then he heard Rude throw the soldier to the ground._

_Tseng landed silently and walked over to the scene. The soldier who had been holding Reno quickly looked away from him. The one whom Reno had bitten was on the ground, nursing his bleeding arm. Rude nodded to Tseng, knowing that he had seen the whole thing._

_"Thank you, Rude, for calling them off. Apparently they're not good at following orders." He turned his attention to the bitten soldier, who had gotten up. He looked like a sulking bully who'd finally been pushed down on the playground, and Tseng had to wonder why he'd volunteered for this job of roughing up some stranger._

_"Bastard bit me!" he said. _

_Tseng was easily the fastest Turk ShinRa had ever had, and he had stepped over Reno, grabbed the soldier by the throat and pinned him against the wall before anyone had time to react. "What part of my orders was unclear?" he asked._

_He let the soldier struggle for breath for a minute before letting him drop. Reno was still on the ground, and Tseng walked over to him. As he knelt down beside him, Reno tried to kick and punch him at the same time. Tseng grabbed both of Reno's hands in one of his and put his other hand on Reno's chest, hoping to take the last of the fight out of him by threatening to compound fracture the already broken bones. _

_It didn't work; Reno thought he was fighting for his life. He had to have figured out by then that ShinRa would probably kill him anyway. He was still trying to kick. He was also still shivering, and Tseng knew that he was likely naturally weak against ice materia, and probably weak with it, too. He would use Ice defensively and probably both absorb and attack with a different element. Tseng's first guess was lightning. _

_"This is not an attempt on your life," Tseng said. "Stop fighting. You're safe."_

_Reno groaned and coughed, and blood flew from his lips. He stopped fighting and listened to what Tseng was telling him. "SOLDIER," Reno said. "ShinRa."_

_"Yes, I know. I'm from ShinRa, too."_

_"Shit," Reno said, and coughed weakly._

_Tseng smiled and tried not to look too threatening. "I think I have a job for you, Mr. Callaghan. Are you interested?"_

_He saw the boy try to muster the last of his particular brand of smartass dignity. "Sorry, commander, I don't go that way. You could try third street." _

_Tseng laughed. He had to, because he'd just found his newest Turk and already he was seeing the challenges of training him, along with the accomplishments. He leaned closer to Reno, so that the two soldiers wouldn't hear. "They're going to kill you anyway," he said. He waited for it to sink in. What he'd told Reno was true, and it was out of his control. Once word got to president ShinRa that a SOLDIER cadet had walked out of his training after having learned some of ShinRa's secrets, ShinRa would have him killed. _

_All at once, Reno looked betrayed, disgusted, and resigned. He still didn't look defeated. _

_Tseng let his hands go and leaned away from him. "But you're free to go," he said._

_"Wait," Reno said. He tried to sit straight up, found that he couldn't, then rolled painfully onto his side and pushed himself up on his palm. "I guess it won't hurt to listen." He wiped the blood from his lips with his free hand and made a point of looking at the soldier he had bitten. He looked back to Tseng defiantly. "But make it quick."_

_"Good," Tseng said. "Good, young man, because I can help you. I can help you help yourself." _


	12. chapter twelve

_In this chapter, I wanted to try to get some different sides of Cloud. In the game, he was not only angsty and confused, he was also funny, irreverent, self-conscious, and had the perspective to laugh at himself ("whatever YOU want, Daddy!") as well as at others ("You look like a bear wearing a marshmallow.") Funny, faceted, confused Cloud is the character that won me over, so I wanted to try to get some of that in there along with the angst. _

_And again: not trying to whitewash Sephiroth. Nope, not at all, and not trying to turn him into a misguided good guy. Sephiroth is not a good guy; I think he is the guy who does whatever the hell he has to do to achieve his aim, and the Planet had better hope that his aim is to its good. To me, Sephiroth is all about will. Like Verbal said in The Usual Suspects, "the will to do what the other guy won't." This fic gets into the idea of a Sephiroth without ShinRa or Jenova to ruin his mind. So I think that, even if he's fighting _for_ the Planet, he's going to do whatever he thinks needs doing. So there is that._

_

* * *

_

**Avalanche**

In the dim light, Cloud awoke to see a soft, dark shape that could only have been Tifa. Apparently he was in her bed. She looked to be leaning against the wall as she sat next to him. He guessed she was asleep, so he closed his eyes again and tried to keep still.

"Cloud?"

"Mm?" His mouth had the familiar taste of burnt dirt that always came after having been hit with status materia.

"You okay?"

"Mostly. You Sleep me?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks."

She shifted her weight to face him, and he sat up on the bed, drawing his knees up to his chest. His muscles ached and twitched. The Bitch had been using him hard. She didn't seem to care that most of his tissue was still human, even if it was enhanced. But now she was gone, and he could only assume that she was concentrating on Vincent.

"You call him?" he asked.

Pause. "Yeah."

"He said he'd come?"

"Yeah. He said to let him know when and where."

Tifa clearly wasn't happy with his plan. Cloud found that sad and a bit annoying, since she was only assuming that he had a plan. In truth, he hadn't given a moment's thought to what they would do when Vincent arrived. He had no idea what would happen to him or to Vincent when The Bitch decided to make her move. He had no idea what they would do about Sephiroth, but that was one thing that he knew he was going to have to figure out soon. Trouble was, without knowing what to expect of Sephiroth, he couldn't make any fair plans about that, either.

"Cloud, what if the Turks are lying?" Tifa asked.

Cloud bit back a bitter laugh. "The Turks are the least of our problems, Tifa."

"You may think so, but what if they're here to sabotage you?"

"For what, though, Tifa? To what end?"

He saw her put her face in her hands. She wanted so badly to believe that it was as easy as fighting the Turks again. "I don't know," she said. "It doesn't matter what the reason is. They just might."

Cloud took a deep breath. "It's just that, I mean, the real problem is...is Jenova." He waited for the reactionary jolt of her consciousness, but there wasn't one. This made him more nervous than anything: her lack of response made it seem as if she was making plans.

"I know that we haven't talked much about this," Cloud went on. "I mean, any of us. You know, in hindsight, I'm thinking that wasn't the right way to handle it. We all kind of just blocked it out. 'Okay, Sephiroth's gone, let's not think about him anymore.' So we didn't."

"Well, except in nightmares," Tifa said with a weak laugh.

"Well, yeah. But, I never really stopped thinking about it. Talking about what really happened to Sephiroth was like blaspheme, but maybe that wasn't fair."

"I know you think he was the victim sometimes, Cloud, but when he...when he..."

"He didn't kill Aerith, Tifa. We never talked about that, either."

"Yeah," she said, "but a clone didn't do this." She lifted her shirt up, and although he couldn't see it, he knew she was showing him the scar that ran from her chest to her hip. "A clone didn't kill my Dad."

"A clone didn't hand over the Black materia and attack Aerith either, Tifa. A clone didn't stand over Aerith, about to cut her in half while she prayed. A clone finally _did_ do it, but I tried to first."

She pulled her shirt back down. He saw her fidget with her broken fingernails. "Yeah," she said. She took a breath, exhaled shakily. Cloud could tell that she was crying.

"Tifa," he went on, "if I can get her out of me...I mean, if I can fight her? Then I don't care who the hell helps me. So all I'm saying is that, if Sephiroth or the Turks or whoever, for whatever reason, are able to help us, then, you know, don't..."

"Don't screw it up by being hostile?"

"No, that's not what I was going to say." He thought it over, and then gently added, "But yeah, that, too."

Tifa laughed, a bitter sound that didn't suit her.

"What I mean is that we should, you know, use whatever we have. I don't care how we do it and I haven't even thought about what might come after we do it..."

"Have you even thought about how we're going to do this?" she asked.

All at once, Cloud resented her. "Right," he said, feeling defeated, feeling gloriously sorry for himself. "So, no pressure."

She sighed and rested her head back against the wall. "Sorry."

He grunted in reply.

"Look, I didn't mean to put it all on you, I just don't know what to expect."

"Well, neither do I. She's not exactly telling me what her plans are. She's not like, 'Oh, by the way, Cloud, I'll be killing you and Vincent and then everyone else and taking over the Planet, so if you're thinking about stopping me, you might want to make some plans.' You know?"

"Look, I'm sorry."

She sounded defensive, and that made Cloud want to give her something to be defensive about. That, in turn, made him angry, because he didn't want to feel that way towards Tifa. She deserved better. He was disappointed that she wasn't acting like a person who deserved better, but there it was. He tried to reign in his emotions before speaking again.

"All I'm saying is that we should wait till he gets here and then decide what to do. It's no use planning anything before we know anything. Right?"

"Yeah, I guess," she said. "I guess you're right."

"Unless you can think of something," he added, noting how good it felt to throw the responsibility back at someone else for a change.

"I can't, Cloud," she said. "I'm sorry it always falls to you. But you're the only one with a clue. It's not fair. I mean, to you. Well, to anyone, but really mostly to you."

"Well..." he said, uncomfortable now that she'd put his thoughts into her own words. He didn't have anything to say to that. To deny it would seem falsely heroic. To accept it seemed self-pitying.

The awkwardness was broken by a soft knock at the door. Cloud felt Tifa's sudden terror, as if she had been waiting to hear this all night. Cloud had the ridiculous feeling that Death was at the door, complete with a scythe and black, flowing robes.

"Who's there?" Tifa whispered.

"Reisei," came the answer.

Instead of sensing relief, Cloud felt further apprehension from Tifa. But it was with her usual confidenceif occasionally feignedthat she got off the bed and went to answer the door.

Tifa opened the door and peered out suspiciously. Cloud could see Reisei's eyes glowing from the hallway.

"Where were you?" Tifa asked. "We were looking for you; you're needed..."

"It was important. I need you to come outside, Tifa."

Cloud threw back the covers and started to get up.

"No," Reisei said, even though she hadn't seen Cloud. "Just Tifa for now, please. You in a moment."

Tifa looked over her shoulder at Cloud as if to ask him why Reisei would want to see her at this hour. Cloud shrugged. Tifa shrugged in response. "I'll be right back," she said.

Cloud nodded and watched her follow Reisei. If he had somehow guessed that the next time he saw Tifa she would be covered in blood, he would have run after her. Something tickled at the back of his mind, but he pushed the feeling aside and waited.

* * *

Tifa followed Reisei outside, her mind a tangle of imaginings, annoyances, resentment, and a deep fear beneath everything. The sun was about to rise, but for now it was still mostly dark and cold. She wished she'd brought a jacket, and she wanted to blame that on Reisei.

The woman walked in front of her, humming. _Humming,_ of all things, a fact which annoyed Tifa more than she felt it should. Reisei hummed often, and it made Cloud smile. Reisei mumbled garbled (but oddly resonant and familiar) sounds and half-words in her sleep, and sometimes when she was awake, and this also made Cloud smile. Reisei tripped and giggled and played with her hair and grew flowers, and this made Cloud ecstatic. Tifa was only usually annoyed, not so much by Reisei herself (something about the weathered, wrinkled face halted that emotion in her,) but by everyone else's reaction to her. Reisei was kind and interesting, but she was just a clone, and so far, she hadn't done anything to help Cloud.

Tifa could see, just as everyone else could, how quickly Reisei had aged since she'd been with them. Marlene called her Gran, and tended flowers with her, as the old woman told her made up stories. Even Barret treated her with a gruff respect, as he had been taught to respect all his elders. Except that Reisei wasn't really an elder; in fact she was probably younger than Marlene. It was dangerous to like her too much. Tifa guessed that Reisei wouldn't be around for a long time, and she didn't think Cloud would take it too well when she finally passed on.

_Provided Cloud is still with you_, she thought mutinously. She immediately blocked that train of thought, as if her belief in him could keep him alive. Cloud would _always_ be around.

It was cold and Tifa was still in her pajamas. She wrapped her arms over her chest and tried to cloak herself with her hair. What was Reisei thinking, calling her out here this early in the morning? She hoped to god that it wasn't to show her a flower or a star, or something pointless like that. Oh, Reisei was certainly one for calling people out in the middle of the night, saying it was urgent, and then showing them a particularly bright star, or the way a flower started to bloom just before dawn. It was ridiculous, and didn't this woman ever sleep, anyway?

"Rei?" Tifa said. Her voice, she noticed, sounded a lot nicer than her thoughts did. She hated the way Reisei could look wounded if someone was sharp with her. She hated that it affected her. It was much too familiar, and the tone of her own voice was much too familiar. "Rei, why are we out here?" she asked.

"To help Cloud and the others," Reisei answered.

Here Tifa expected her to go on: "Oh, wait till you see, this is so lovely!" or something like that, but she didn't. She kept walking.

Tifa ground her teeth and walked on. The chances of this being something that would really, truly help Cloud in the way he most needed help were very slim.

"I don't want you to be afraid," Reisei said, as she led Tifa to the fire in the center of town. "Promise me you won't be afraid, and that you'll trust me?"

"I promise," Tifa said absently. "As long as we can make this quick. I'm really cold." She moved closer to the fire to warm herself, and was startled when a stranger stepped out from the other side of it. Her hands clenched into fists and she stepped back for leverage, but these were automatic responses to being startled. The actual fearthe true, basic, animalistic terrorcame when she saw the silver hair.

_If I scream, Cloud will come running,_ she thought, and her scream caught in her throat. She took two more steps back, balance and leverage forgotten. She couldn't fight him. She would have to run, lure him out of Cosmo Canyon, maybe buy herself and the others some time.

"Tifa," Reisei said, with just the barest touch on her arm.

Tifa jumped away from her with a shrill intake of breath, for a moment convinced that Sephiroth had gotten behind her somehow.

"Tifa, you promised not to be afraid."

She could hardly take her eyes off the man who was likely about to kill her, but at the same time, she wanted to glare at Reisei. She wanted to glare at her, and scream at her, and strike herthis idiot who had glibly handed her over to Sephiroth. She wondered fleetingly if Reisei was bad, and had been planning this the whole time. Maybe, Tifa thought with a surge of horror, she had come back different, bad, soulless or evil. Maybe she'd had all of them fooled.

Sephiroth was between her and the stairs that led out of the city. She could perhaps run behind the observatory if her legs would carry her quickly enough. Lead him to the cemetery. But, as Cloud would ask, to what end? Sephiroth would kill her and then come back for the others.

"Miss Lockheart," he said.

Tifa was so surprised to hear his voice that she gasped again. She hated the high-pitched, panic breathing she was doing, but the more she tried to stop, the more she did it. His voice sounded cool and businesslike. She supposed that killing her _was_ just part of his business here. Maybe he would be quick about it. Or maybe she could still run.

"I understand you're afraid because of what happened," he said. Then he glanced at Reisei.

Reisei, Tifa saw out of the corner of her eye, smiled encouragingly at Sephiroth. Then she approached Tifa. Oddly, she didn't look as frail as she usually did. She looked confident in a way. In control.

"Tifa," she said. Her voice sounded strangely pragmatic. "I'll be so sorry if I have to cast Stop to get you to listen."

Finally, Tifa gave the old woman her attention. She stared, wide-eyed, terrified and outraged. How _dare_ this woman threaten her. How _dare_ she. "I'll kill you," Tifa breathed. "Somehow, I'll do it."

Reisei gave her that wounded look again, but this time, it only fueled Tifa's rage. She drew back her fist...

"Don't," Sephiroth said.

His voice again startled her so much that she fell back, crying, betrayed, and utterly afraid. She was shaking so hard that she almost fell, but the thought of going on her knees before either of them was repulsive, so she held herself up.

"I want you to be still and listen to me. And then, after you've listened, you can do as you please. You can stay or go. I'm not here to hurt you."

"Tifa, please, just listen to us, okay?" Reisei said.

_"Us,"_ Tifa thought. _"Us," like they're a team._ It made her want to vomit. Instead, she cried. She had occasionally been annoyed by Reisei, but she hadn't hated her. Had liked her in a strange way, in fact. This new hate for her felt alien and ugly.

Sephiroth approached her, and Tifa found that she couldn't run after all. All she could do was watch him come to her, and wonder what it was going to be like to die at his hand. Lonely, she decided. It would be lonely. She saw then that he had his sword dangling from his belt. It was long enough to drag on the ground. For a moment, Tifa stared at the line it had drawn in the sand behind him, a small cut on the surface of the Planet. The Masamune, she realized. She wondered madly, fleetingly, if her blood was still on it. If her father's blood was still on it.

She was sobbing, but Sephiroth seemed to ignore this. He was almost formal as he took both her handswhich were clutching her arms across her chestand pulled them away.

She had no idea what he meant by that. The gesture confused her. She was only certain of one thing: She hated him. And maybe she hated Reisei more.

He pulled her arms out to her sides. Tifa, too stunned to do anything but allow him, realized that he was going to finish what he'd begun sixteen years earlier. He was going to cross the old scar. Oh, Cloud would scream when he saw her.

With the same detached formality as before, Sephiroth took the hem of her pajama top and slowly lifted it up to the bottom of her ribs. There was nothing suggestive about it; he didn't see her as a female of the species, he was merely observing the affects of his work.

"I hate you," she said. She choked the words out between sobs, wishing that she didn't sound as desperate as she did. "I hate you," she said with more strength. If he was going to degrade her and kill her, at least she should tell him what she felt. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." She looked at his face as she said this, even though he wasn't looking at hers. She wanted to take her memory and hatred of him with her into the Lifestream. The Lifestream, she'd been told (by Reisei, no less,) would purge a person of all their grudges and resentment and hatred, but now Tifa didn't believe that. This was too strong to die.

Sephiroth drew his eyebrows together and touched the scar. It went from left to right in a perfect, diagonal line. His touch was very light, almost hesitant. He closed his eyes, sighed, and looked strangely pained.

"I hate you," Tifa repeated. It was her dying mantra, and she would say it until he bled her dry. "I hate you. I hate you."

"I know you do," he said. He pulled her top back down almost primly and turned away.

It didn't matter to him, obviously, that she hated him. But it mattered to her.

He drew the Masamune out of his belt. This action included a moment of reaching his arm as high as it would go before the sword had even cleared the belt, and Tifa was certain that he was going to bring it down on her. Suddenly she knew that she wasn't ready to die, and that telling him that she hated him wasn't enough. She hadn't said anything to anyone else. She hadn't had her final moments, and she was going to die out here, surrounded by her enemies. Frantically, she looked to the sky for her favorite constellation, the one she had looked at with Cloud at the well. Something familiar, so that her last vision in this life wouldn't be Sephiroth's cool eyes as he sliced her in half. The stars swam in her vision. She resisted the urge to shut her eyes.

The sound of metal on the ground made her look away from the sky briefly. But it was the image of Sephiroth on one knee, laying the Masamune at her feet, his head bowed over it, that made her forget the stars. His hands then went to his shirt and seemed to be toying with the top button.

Her first instinct, oddly enough, was to back away from the sword, and from him. Even under her shock and confusion, she could find no desire to pick it up and defend herself. Then she felt Reisei's hands on her arms, urging her forward again.

"Go on, my dear," the old woman whispered in her ear.

* * *

_Cloud, come quickly._

_Cloud...fire..._

Cloud sat up in bed, certain that he hadn't dreamed that voice. He could usually tell when someone had gotten into his head and when he had dreamed that someone had. The only person who was able to do it was Reisei.

_...is okay...the fire..._

Everything is okay, come to the fire. At least, that's what he thought she was saying. Still, Reisei's idea of "okay" and his idea of "okay" were sometimes different. This could be one of her "come and watch the sky with me" moments, or it could be "help me carry this sick person with a broken leg to the inn." If no one was already dead or dying, Cloud thought it safe to take the time to be somewhat prepared.

He pulled his time-worn, spaghetti sauce-stained tee shirt over his head, took a green materia orb from Tifa's dresser drawer and snapped it into an old wrist-armor she'd found long ago. Then he snapped the armor onto his wrist. He almost went outside without his shoes, as he sometimes did when he was just going to look at the sky or something like that, but then he second guessed. Reisei had called him. He might end up climbing somewhere. He pulled his socks and shoes on, but didn't bother to tie them. As he got to the door, he realized that he should bring his jacket, too, since it was cold. But his jacket was all the way in his room, and...

_Tseng...Reno..._

_Turks...fire..._

Bring the Turks to the fire? She had to be kidding. Or he was hearing her wrong.

"You want me to bring the Turks?" he asked, whispering into the dark room.

He was filled with the answer "yes," as light and happy as her laugh. Her joy was like sugar in his veins and a knife in his heart all at once. Her joy felt the same as...

"...As it did the first time," he finished in a whisper. That was one thing that hadn't changed. She was mostly the same as she had been. But sometimes he wondered who else's DNA she might have in the mix.

Cloud drew the curtain back and peered outside. The sky was light in the east.

_Quickly..._

Right. Quickly. Get the Turks and convince them to come out to the fire quickly. Although, he had an idea that they might listen to him without question. Cloud grabbed the nearest thing he could find off a hook in Tifa's roomwhich looked to be a standard, Shildra Inn bathrobeand put it on. He headed out to the hall.

On the bottom floor, he found the Turks' room easily. Tifa had apparently posted a guard there again. He didn't marvel at her lack of trust, and sometimes he was glad for it. Sometimes she saw things he didn't see. This time, though, he didn't think she was.

The guard stepped aside for Cloud without question, but he was looking strangely at him. Cloud figured it could have something to do with his making a pre-dawn visit to these ShinRa people.

Remembering that he was supposed to be hurrying, he knocked on the door, and didn't bother to do so softly. He heard someone spring out of bed and come to the door.

"Who's there?" Reeve's hushed voice came through the door.

"Cloud. I need to see you."

Reeve opened the doorlooking paler than he had even earlierand stepped back to allow Cloud to come in, but Cloud hung back. "I need you guys down by the fire," Cloud said.

Reeve raised his eyebrows. "Sounds decadent. What do you have planned, sweetness?"

Cloud rolled his eyes. Reeve could be such an idiot. "Just come with me."

As expected, Reeve didn't question him. He left the door open as he went back inside to tell the other Turks. Cloud resisted the urge to look inside their hotel room to see what was going on, but he heard Elena ask sleepily, "What is it, Reeve?" and then, "Oh my god, he looks terrible." Cloud guessed she was talking about Tseng.

He thought that maybe Reisei had found a way to heal them all, although he doubted she could handle so many people at once. It would take her days to get everyone back on their feet.

Next he heard Rude: "Reno, come on, man." And Reno's reply, which was a faint groan. Rude asked Reeve if it could wait, and Reeve started to make his way back to Cloud.

Cloud tapped on the door, because he didn't want Reeve to be the go-between when it was easier just to talk to everyone. "Come in," Reeve said.

Cloud stepped into the room and took a look around. The table lamp was on, and everyone who was awake was squinting in the dim light. The room stank of illness and he wondered if anyone else could smell it. "Sorry, guys, but I need you all at the fire. It's not too long of a walk."

"What's this about? Reeve asked.

That was the question he'd been afraid of, yet he knew there was no way around it. Anything he told them was going to sound stupid and unreasonable, but he decided to word it as well as he could. "Uhh, we found our healer and she wants us to meet at the fire."

"Can't she come up here?" Elena asked.

"I guess not."

Elena looked at him a fraction of a second longer than she had to, and Cloud knew that she was looking for deceit. Then, oddly, she looked him up and down before shrugging and turning to look at the other Turks.

Reno made his way past her. "Hell, I'll go," he said. "I'll try anything. I'm sick of being sick."

"But why outside?" Elena asked.

"I don't know," Cloud said. "Maybe she has to do something outside because there are so many of you." Elena didn't look convinced. "Look, I'm unarmed..."

"Elena," Reeve said, "if Cloud wanted you dead, you would be dead. He wouldn't drag us all outside at such an ungodly hour to cut us in pieces."

"Thanks for the visual, Reeve," Cloud said.

"I do it all for you, sweetness," Reeve answered.

Reno chuckled as he pulled his shoes on. "So how do we get Tseng out there? Carry him?" he asked, before Cloud could ask Reeve what was up with the "sweetness" thing.

"I guess so," Elena said. But she needn't have, because Rude had already quietly gotten his shoes on, and was pulling his boss off the bed.

"Let's make this quick, then," Rude said. "Lead the way."

Cloud did, and they followed him outside. Reno snickered at something, and was perhaps going to make some kind of smartass comment, but stopped when he took a good look at Tseng. Cloud offered to help Rude with Tseng (who looked more dead than alive,) but Rude just shook his head and walked on.

They were halfway between the inn and the fire when Cloud heard Tifa crying. For that moment, he forgot everything else. The decision to run was not a conscious one. Oblivious to the Turks and Reeve running behind him, he ran towards Tifa.

There was blood on the ground. Cloud saw that first, and then looked at Tifa. She was standing, but that didn't mean she wasn't hurt. Frantically, he willed her to turn around as he ran to her. He could see Reisei standing close by, but Reisei seemed calm.

"Tifa!" Cloud called, as he closed the distance between them. "TIFA!"

She turned around, and Cloud felt his stomach bottom out when he saw that she was splattered in blood. "Cloud!" she wailed. She dropped something (_that was a sword, why was she holding a sword, someone must have fought with her..._) and staggered forward.

Cloud made it in time to catch her, and she wanted to cling and cry, but he pushed her away and held her at arms' length. He looked her up and down. There was so much blood, and he couldn't see where it was coming from. But now was not the time to panic. Panic, he'd learned, could cost lives.

"Tifa, shh," he said, and pushed her hair away to see if she had any cuts on her head, which could account for the blood on her face. But the blood wasn't running down her face; it was blood splatter, and he couldn't imagine what had happened. It seemed as if someone else's blood was on her.

"Tifa, are you okay? Just tell me yes or no. Are you hurt?"

She took a few hitching gasps as she shook her head.

"No, you're not hurt?"

"I'm not hurt," she said, and then went back to crying. There was a hysterical, screamy sound to her crying that tied his insides in a knot.

"Christ, Tifa, what happ-..."

His mouth dropped open in shock and he never finished the question. Somehow, _somehow_, in the midst of all this, he had expected this. He'd been prepared to see him, but he hadn't been prepared to see him directly after seeing Tifa covered in blood. This was all too familiar.

If he could have said anything, he probably would have screamed something stupid, like, "Now you die, bastard!" but as it was, all he could do was push Tifa aside, pick up the sword she had dropped, and step between her and Sephiroth. He raised the Masamune as if it was his old Buster Sword, prepared to finish this again if he had to.

Sephiroth took a step back and raised his empty hands. If that gesture hadn't stopped Cloud, his eyes would have. They were steady, (_sane_) and quiet. Cloud froze where he was.

The Turks and Reeve had caught up, but now they stood back, quiet and tense. Out of the corner of his eye, Cloud saw Reisei beckon the Turks closer, and he saw them begin to move. That was brave of them, but Sephiroth's eyes were only on him. At least, Cloud thought, there were a lot of people around. If anything happened, they at least stood a chance, however slight, and at least he had the sword; he had the Masamune...

_The Masamune that cut Tifa and killed Aerith, had been through Aerith, had touched her insides and she had been impaled, and Sephiroth had smiled, had smiled... He had smiled and then he had drifted up, because he can fly and he is unbeatable and unstoppable and will crush the tiny Plant in his palm..._

_"Master yourself first, or you will never master your enemies..."_

Cloud fleetingly remembered having been taught that.

_"You will either be afraid or you will not, but don't bother struggling with it. Just remember what you know and carry out your orders."_

Yes, he had been taught that in ShinRa; _Sephiroth_ had taught him that, along with the others. Sephiroth was wise and strong, and now Cloud faced him, and he was afraid, and weak, and worst of all, letting the General down, and how would he ever defeat him if he couldn't even impress him?

Those thoughts were madness, and Cloud well knew it. But it was _his_ weakness. Jenova was suddenly conspicuous in her absence.

_Well, you're doing a good enough job failing on your own,_ he reminded himself.

Cloud took a shaky breath, relaxed his insanely tight grip on the hilt of the Masamune, and lowered the blade. He ran his free hand over his face, surprised to find how clammy he felt. He hadn't taken his eyes off of Sephiroth, but then, he hadn't really looked closely at him, either. Peripherally, he could see Tifa was still standing. She had stopped sobbing, and was as quiet as everyone else.

Cloud took a long look at Sephiroth. He had a black cloak pulled tightly around him, and he was holding it closed with one hand. His features were the same as he remembered them, but he was different in ways Cloud couldn't see, but feel. Always he had felt a connection to the General, some invisible cord that seemed to bounce moods and occasionally thoughts back and forth between them, and now it was gone. They seemed to be free of it.

_No,_ Cloud thought, and almost dropped the sword when this occurred to him, _he's free of it. You still have your end._

Cloud had to look away. And anyway, he thought it was probably a good time to look at everyone else.

Reisei had said something to Rude, and he had put Tseng down on the ground. They were closer to Sephiroth and Cloud than they had been moments ago, and theyespecially Reeve, who had witnessed the final battle with himlooked both awed and terrified. Tifa was clutching her arms over her chest and shivering.

"Sephiroth?" Reisei said softly.

Sephiroth nodded. Reisei stepped between him and Cloud, and put her small, wrinkled palm on the blade of the Masamune, urging Cloud to keep it lowered. She smiled at him,

(_"...and let me handle Sephiroth..."_ her quiet voice in his head, but this wasn't from now, this was from the first time...)

so that he was distracted enough not to react when Sephiroth raised his arms to the sky, looking for all the world as if he were about to summon something. The front of his white shirt was torn and soaked through with blood.

Cloud heard the others gasp, but something told him not to move. He felt the familiar pull of energy in the air around him. It seemed to rush past him and towards Sephiroth, who was gathering it into himself.

At first he thought that the wetness on his face was from tears, and he was surprised, and wondered when he had started crying without realizing it, and more importantly, why. Then he saw the water hit the ground, and in a moment, he could see a highly reflective puddle of rainwater at his feet. Cloud saw an outstretched, feathered wing for a moment in that reflection, and he quickly shut his eyes, because he didn't want to see anymore. The rain continued to cool his overheated skin, and at the same time, warm him where he was cold.

It was over quickly, and everyone was silent. After a moment, he heard Tifa sob again. Behind him, Tseng sat up. Cloud could hear the Turks whispering something to Tseng, but he didn't have time to think about what they were saying.

Finally, he opened his eyes.

Sephiroth was pulling his coat closed again. Reisei linked both her arms through Cloud's left arm. The Masamune dangled from his limp hand.

"You knew I'd tried it, Cloud," Reisei whispered in his ear, "but it wasn't me."

Yes, he had known that the Great Gospel wasn't for Reisei, as much as he'd wanted it to be. Her essence might be the same, but her genetic makeup wasn't, and that probably had something to do with it. Cloud had been all right with Reisei not being able to use it.

"But Sephiroth," he whispered.

"Yes!" she said, sounding oddly cheerful as she nodded vigorously. "I knew it would work! And now everyone's so much better." She let go of his arm and stepped back.

Yes, everyone was much better. Andmore to the point, he thoughtno one would be able to harm each other for a short time.

But only for a short time, and Cloud knew it. It made him angry and panicked in a way, and yet he could still access another, more reasonable part of him, and this told him to use it while he could. How he handled this could cure or kill so much.

Everything else could wait.

"Reeve," he said, trying to use his best Cloud Is In Control Of The Situation voice, "take the Turks back to the Inn. Reisei, take Tifa..."

"Cloud," Tifa said. She was using her best I Am Determined voice, but it was shaky and wet.

He picked up the Masamune, turned to her, and bent his head to her hair. He hoped for the familiar smell of rosemary shampoo, but the blood and fear on her smothered it. "He can't hurt me and I can't hurt him," he whispered. "And if he'd wanted to, we'd all be dead."

"I won't leave you here; I have to know what's going on!" she said. She was trying to yell at him, but he silenced her by taking a step back. He didn't need hysterics when he was so close to having some of his own.

"Just go, and I promise I'll come back." He knew that wouldn't be enough, and he felt for her. He understood her need to see him through this, and he knew that there was no way he would ever leave her alone with Sephiroth, but he couldn't think of a way to make it easier for her. "Just do as I ask," he said.

"I refuse..."

"I don't have time to argue about it," Cloud said as gently as he could, "and I don't want to waste any more time. The quicker you go, the more safe time we'll have."

"Tifa," Reisei said. She was holding her hand out tentatively.

For reasons Cloud didn't understand, Tifa looked horrified at the idea of taking the old woman's hand, even though she had never had a problem with her in the past.

_She thought Reisei set us up,_ Cloud thought in a moment of intuition, and his intuition on things like this was never wrong. ("_You're such a woman sometimes, Cloud,"_ he heard Tifa tease, like she sometimes did.)

"Go on," he said, and gave her a gentle nudge towards Reisei.

Tifa went, but she didn't take Reisei's hand.

Cloud didn't have the time to watch her leave. He turned to Sephiroth.

* * *

**Cloud and Sephiroth**

He had the insane urge to sit down next to Sephiroth. Instead, he did what would have made Tifa proud: he gripped the Masamune and moved to Sephiroth's side, so that he could circle him if he had to. He had no doubt that Sephiroth had abilities without his sword, but the least he could do was be prepared.

Sephiroth turned his head to look at Cloud, and Cloud stopped walking. To have kept walking and force Sephiroth to turn around to see him, or to put himself at Sephiroth's back, would have been unnecessarily rude, and Cloud didn't see any reason to antagonize him. He kept his face as impassive as possible.

"Cloud Strife," Sephiroth said.

Cloud nodded.

Sephiroth looked him up and down, assessing him coolly. Cloud resisted the urge to self-consciously try to flatten his hair.

"Yes," Sephiroth said. "They told me I would remember you when I saw you. Of course I remembered you, but not quite what you looked like. But now I do." The barest hint of a smile. "You grew."

Cloud shrugged. "Topped at five nine," he said.

"Did you ever make it to SOLDIER?"

Cloud was suddenly nervous and ashamed. He would have to admit now that he never had. He couldn't begin to grasp why it still mattered to him, and he wanted to tell Sephiroth that. He wanted to just tell him straight out that SOLDIER didn't matter, and ShinRa was evil and stupid and weak and had fallen, and that he, Cloud, was still alive. Instead of doing that, he decided to deflect the question.

"You don't remember?" he asked.

Sephiroth sighed. "As I have told Reeve, the last thing I remember is..." Something seemed to dawn on him then, and he turned fully to Cloud, a strange light in his eyes. "The last thing I remember is you, in fact."

Cloud felt a ridiculous, yet irresistible surge of pride, even though he wasn't entirely certain what Sephiroth was talking about. He wanted to ask, "How much do you remember about me?" but aside from the fact that he was afraid of what the answer might be, he knew this was not the time. Instead he asked, "Exactly what do you remember?"

Sephiroth turned to face him and looked at him levelly. "Nibelheim. The reactor, the fire, Zack, Miss Lockheart, Jenova, and yourself." He waited for an answer, but, seeing that Cloud didn't seem to have one, he went on. "You threw me into the Lifestream. That's the last thing I remember."

Cloud nodded, suddenly nervous. "I did what I had to do," he said. He immediately hated the way it had sounded, as if he was some kind of hero, some kind of powerful person. He expected Sephiroth to give him a withering look, to tell this weak, mouthy sixteen year old boy to settle down.

"You did," Sephiroth said. "I owe you my thanks."

Of all the things Cloud had been expecting, to be thanked was not one of them. He stood in front of Sephiroth, looking, he suspected, entirely nonplussed, and probably quite stupid as well. "Your...thanks?" he said, with a mental slap to himself for sounding as stupid as he looked and completing the image.

"Strife," Sephiroth said, as if exasperated that he had to explain this, "I had given myself to Jenova. I was her instrument. I gave her my body, my willwhat little of it I hadand my mind. My _mind,_ Strife. How much more useless could a creature be? How much more pathetic? Could anything be more lowering to one's pride than to give in like that? To become someone's object?"

Cloud frowned through this, and blinked as he sorted it out. "You're glad I killed you because serving her was lowering to your pride?" He asked because at first it had sounded strange to him, but when he said the words aloud, it sounded more absurd than just strange, and he found himself becoming hesitantly angry. "Your _pride?_ What about..." (_Tifa Mom Aerith Nibelheim the Planet..._) "What about everything else?"

Sephiroth gave him a cold look. "I know there was more to it, Strife, but I remember very little. Yes, you avenged many people by killing me, and certainly you saved many more people from what I would have doubtless continued to do. But I can't thank you for them; the ones you've helped, they can thank you. I'm thanking you for having saved _me._"

While Cloud stared at him, open-mouthed and trying to process all of this, Sephiroth glanced briefly to the Shildra behind Cloud, and then he sat down on the damp ground. Cloud looked up, too, and saw Tifa standing on one of the balconies, watching from a distance. He was briefly alarmed that Sephiroth still knew how to manipulate people's feelings with his actions, but then he sat down, too. He supposed that eliciting a desired response was ingrained in people. Sephiroth wanted Tifa to see that he wasn't a threat, so he'd sat down. Cloud wanted her to see that he was in no danger, so he followed suit. Then he turned his attention back to Sephiroth.

"So, is that why you're here, then?" he asked. "To 'save' me?"

Sephiroth was to his side, watching him carefully. "Strife," he said, "if there is a reason that I've been brought back, I have no idea what it is."

"I see," Cloud said. In truth, though, he didn't understand any of this. He had hoped for years that someone would find a way to fight the being that was inside him, but had feared that it would kill him in the process. The news of Sephiroth's return had hinted in his mind at both of those options. He remembered what The Bitch had been trying to do to his body the day before, as he battled her in his own mind. He remembered Sephiroth's wings, ten years ago when he had finally killed him. He was still reeling from once again seeing Tifa covered in blood and Sephiroth right after, and still reeling from having seen the Great Gospel cast by the same man. He hated and feared one image of Sephiroth, and was completely thrown by this new one. And through it all he continued to fight the urge to try to impress him, as if the eager adolescent in him still had something to prove.

As they were talking, the effects of the Great Gospel had worn off, and now both of them were capable of being hurt again.

Cloud was surprised he could function enough to even speak.

"I never knew what she was," Sephiroth said slowly. "I never guessed that something was inside of me, not until I saw it. I never knew, so I thought it was me, my intuition if you will, and so of course I followed it blindly. I wonder if I would have fought her if I'd known sooner. I knew I had a kind of connection with you, Strife, but I had no idea that we both had her inside of us."

Just as Sephiroth finished speaking, Cloud felt a slight buzz of her attention on him. It shocked him, because she had been so quiet for so long. He imagined that wherever Vincent was, he had just felt her focus slip. He wondered how Vincent was faring. He supposed that Cid would go and get him and bring him here

_(for the reunion the reunion...reunion..._)

Cloud caught his breath, and Sephiroth looked at him, frowning.

"Have you been fighting her all these years?" he asked.

Cloud swallowed against the bitterness in his throat. He nodded. "Not so much at first, but since she regained her strength. In the last few years she's gotten..." Cloud found he was afraid to tell Sephiroth that she'd gotten strong. That was too much like admitting that he himself was weak.

"Jenova tells you to do things. I know. She changes you. I used to think I was...was some sort of low form of a god, you know."

She seemed to react to the sound of her name, though she was still busy somewhere else. _Planning_. He felt the jolt of her joy, and the brief, static-white burst of her energy.

"Stop," he whispered to Sephiroth. "Let's just not use her name for now."

Looking slightly surprised, Sephiroth conceded with a nod. "She uses your emotions," he went on. "If you are afraid, she gives you false hope. If you're angry, she finds a way to harness it. If you love, she exploits. I, of course, thought this was all me, and that it was because I was somehow above all the others."

Cloud looked at Sephiroth, stunned. He was overwhelmingly relieved to have someone else put it in words for him, and overwhelmingly unnerved that it was the man he'd killed for having lost to her. He wanted to tell Sephiroth that he was right, that she had kept him separated from everything for years. He wanted to tell him about how difficult it had been to keep his reactions low and quiet over the years, about how sex had been out of the question because she was so unpredictable, about how she laughed at his human desires and made the barest of touches painful. He wanted to tell this to someone who already knew, but he couldn't say it to Sephiroth.

"I'm not making excuses," Sephiroth said. "After all, you haven't let her win yet."

The word "yet" hung between them. Cloud no longer wanted to look at Sephiroth, nor did he want to be looked at with that terrible, cold understanding. Instead he glanced at the Shildra. Tifa was still watching them anxiously from the balcony. Should The Bitch come back, he was going to want Tifa to cast Sleep on him again, and yet, if The Bitch decided it was time to use her full power on him, he doubted that Tifa would be able to stop her. He also doubted that Tifa would take it very well if Sephiroth was forced to use materia on him. Also, he wasn't sure he would be ready to let Sephiroth cast anything on him. And underneath all of that, he didn't want this man to witness him losing control.

"Where did you get my sword?" Sephiroth asked.

With a surge of panic and guilt, Cloud nearly handed the Masamune over to him, feeling for that moment as if he had been caught with something he wasn't supposed to have. He always felt a little guilty holding the Masamune, as if someone would come charging in and demand that he put it down. He stopped himself before he made any distinct moves with it.

"Uhh, after everything was over, I found it. I don't remember taking it," he added hurriedly. Then he regretted saying that. The words "I don't remember" were such uncomfortable words for him. "I never used it," he said.

"Of course not."

Cloud was sure that Sephiroth would demand it back, or simply take it out of his hand, but he didn't, and Cloud was relieved. He knew that the right thing to do would be to keep it, or at least try to keep it for now, and he had no idea how Sephiroththis Sephirothwould take to being denied his possessions, especially the Masamune. And especially by Cloud.

But Sephiroth didn't demand it back. "I owe you my freedom, Strife," he said. "So if there is a way for me to help you by fighting her, I will. I can think of no other reason, outside of chance, for my return. I believe in chance, but I believe more strongly that my return has to do with the Ancient."

Cloud's head whipped around so quickly to face Sephiroth that he heard his neck crack. "Aerith?" he asked.

"The old woman," Sephiroth said.

_

* * *

_

**Avalanche**

Cloud returned to the Shildra alone. Sephiroth thought it best to wait outside, because he expected there would be a scene if he walked into the Inn. Cloud thought he was right. It was better for Cloud to go in alone and tell everyone what he knew (which wasn't much, he admitted to himself,) and then decide where to go and what to do from there.

Tifa met him on the steps and put her arm very carefully around his back. Even with his robe separating her skin from his, she didn't actually rest her arm around his waist. She was still covered in Sephiroth's blood, and she was fighting not to cry again.

"I'm all right," Cloud said. "I'm all right. We need to talk."

"What the _hell!_" came Barret's voice from the door behind Tifa. "What the _HELL!_ Sephiroth! Sephiroth is here? Bring him!"

"Barret..." Cloud began. His head had started to ache.

"BRING HIM, Strife, I been waitin' years, 'cause I knew he was too evil to really be dead!"

"Barret, please!" Cloud said, now yelling himself. "Stop shouting!"

He noticed that Cid, Reeve, and the Turksall but Tsengwere waiting behind Barret in the lobby of the Shildra. They were all staring at him. Tifa looked up at him, surprised that he had yelled at Barret. Cloud knew that she wasn't used to him yelling. It was dangerous for him to raise his voice and he rarely did it, but suddenly he felt the need to. Suddenly, even though his head was pounding, it felt very necessary to yell. Not only necessary, but freeing. The Bitch wasn't around to use his feelings, to fuel or siphon his rage, and for once..._for once_ in these many years, he wanted to run with this feeling, and to let it run with him. Cloud was angry, and at the same time, joyful that he was able to express this without feeling her approval...her encouragement.

"Now that I have everyone's undivided goddamn attention, you're all going to listen to me!" he went on, his voice rising in volume the more he thought about what he wanted to say. "Anyone not interested in listening to me can turn around and walk right the fuck out that door! There will be no yelling! There will be no _fighting!_ We're going to deal with this reasonably, and anyone who wants to be unreasonable can also turn around and walk right the fuck out of that door! Because I refuse to listen to bullshit about vengeance and violence. Are we all clear on that!"

The room rang out with silence as they all stared at him. Tifa's hand had slackened on his waist, and her other hand had crept to her chest, and she held it there, surprised by his outburst.

Cloud felt drained, unsteady, and unlike himself for having lost his temper, but he also felt somewhat relaxed and relieved. He didn't know how to follow up, and yet he was still sure of what he had actually said. Yes, he had been angry, but he reckoned that he'd made some kind of sense.

He took a breath and cleared his throat. "So," he said in his usual, quiet tone, "are we clear on that?"

Barret, one eyebrow raised, was looking at Cloud appraisingly. His look suggested that he was surprised, and perhaps even pleased, that Cloud still had some fire in him. This made Cloud feel slightly ashamed; did everyone think that he had no passion, only because he was never allowed to let it surface?

Barret nodded in response to Cloud's question. That was good. At least he was willing to listen.

Reeve had begun to smile. Cid outright _cackled_. It was Reno who finally spoke up.

"I liked the part about 'violence and vengeance' the best," he said. "Did you make that up yourself, or did you hear it in a movie? I'll have to remember that one."

"Shut up, Reno," Cloud said.

"Whatever you say, sweetness," Reno answered.

Cloud had forgotten about Reeve calling him that earlier, at a time that seemed so far away now. He threw his free hand out in frustration. "What the _hell?_" he asked, sounding to himself alarmingly like Barret.

Tifa pulled away and looked at him. Her eyes were tired and red-rimmed. She put her hand to her mouth and giggled. "Oh, Cloud," she said. Just as suddenly as she'd begun to laugh, tears came into her eyes. She laughed through them, and reached out to touch his robe. He'd forgotten he'd been wearing the stupid thing.

Cloud looked down and realized that he hadn't, in fact, grabbed a Shildra Inn robe off the peg in Tifa's room. Instead, he had grabbed Tifa's robe, which was pink, and read "50 Sweetness" on the front, and "100 Attitude" on the back.

With horror, he realized that he had worn this thing during his entire talk with Sephiroth.

Tifa was still laughing, and Cloud felt a smile begin to tug at the corners of his lips, but he fought it. He was still too mad to not be mad anymore, and anyway, he wasn't ready to give it up yet. He hurriedly pulled the robe closed.

"Well then," he said. "Everyone get cleaned up. Meet me again down here in twenty minutes."

He strode past everyone purposefully, making sure that he was stomping his feet as he walked by. Reeve laughed good naturedly, and so did a few others. Tifa followed Cloud, and she was still giggling.

Cloud thought this was all to the good. They were tired and afraid, but laughing and sane. Tifa was covered in the blood of the resurrected man who had nearly killed her years ago, but was not so undone that she had lost herself.

If they could all stay rational, Cloud thought, if they could all put the past aside even for a short time, then they stood a chance against Jenova. For the first time in ten years, he was sure of it.


	13. chapter thirteen

_Admittedly, I am shamelessly proud of the section with Scarlet. Maybe I shouldn't be, who knows, but I still like that part. _

_Can you guess where Scarlet is in that first paragraph? ;)_

_I am also pretty shamelessly happy with two lines in this chapter; and they are both Reno's. (The "clowns would come out" line and the "your goddamn hair," line, if you must know.) Along with Cid's previous "your psycho ass will be a huge help," these two lines are among my favorites. _

_And this chapter is the last before the downturn into some serious Cloud angst. However, I fell into the trap of completely gratuitous Cloud _lust_. This was the chapter that I was so happy with as I was writing it, then, on reading it back I said, "wow, overdo it much?" I have to admit, I'm partial to Cloud and Tifa, but as I said in the very beginning of this thing, I didn't want to be 'shippy. The fic isn't about romance or who hooks up with whom. Instead, I tried to imagine them as two adults living in an enforced situation. They obviously love each other, but romance and snogging are the least of their worries. Do they just love each other, or are (were) they (wouldbe) lovers? I couldn't decide and I still can't, so the reader can decide._

_I guess in this chapter I wanted to show Cloud as this totally repressed creature. He's got all these human urges and isn't allowed to act on any of them. He's good at heart, but all that repression and opression... it's like shaking a bottle of champagne, isn't it?_

_...POP!_

_Whatever. OMFG NAKIE!Cloud!11_

_

* * *

_

**ShinRa**

Scarlet tied her hair in a careless knot at the back of her neck as she crouched down behind an overturned car. The pavement was cracked and bloody, and in the first light of morning, she could see a trail of blood that led down the road, too. Someone had been hurt here, but had managed to run away, or crawl away, more likely. She guessed that he or she hadn't gotten far.

The stench here was atrocious, worse than anything she had ever smelled in Hojo's lab or the ShinRa mansion. She was wearing a mask over her nose and mouth, but it did little to prevent the stench of Mako, fire, panic and destruction from reaching her senses. At least she had Materia that prevented her from being poisoned like some of the others.

She was tired, but not uncomfortable in jeans and a practical shirt, with sturdy hiking boots on her feet. Oh, Rufus wouldn't even recognize her if he could see her this way, she mused. She was sweaty and filthy, and doing the job that the Turks should have been doing, had they decided to stay with her. Heidegger was around somewhere, but he was very little help to her. He was too slow and unwieldy to get this job done.

She had been taking clones down all morning.

Another one came into view, lumbering down the ruined road on a broken ankle. This was the sort that repelled her: not only uninhabited, but untrained and unresponsive. It looked young, only around eighteen or nineteen years old. It was impossible to tell their ages by looking at them; they all aged at different rates. This one had long, jet black hair, and was narrow in the shoulders and hips. It was clearly male, with angular, almost pointy features, and brightly glowing eyes. It looked familiar to her.

_Hojo._

Scarlet took aim and fired. Her bullet hit the clone in the shoulder and spun him to the side as he fell. Damn, but she was a bad shot. She always had been. She knew she wasn't cut out for this work, but so few people were willing to do it.

She took a look around and, seeing no one else in the street, came around the side of the car to finish what she had started.

The clone was lying in the road, wailing inhumanly. Of course. No one had ever even taught it to scream. Without getting too close, she aimed her gun between its eyes and fired, blowing bits of Professor Hojo's genetic makeup out the back of its head. As its biological functions shut down, the expression in its eyes never changed.

Scarlet shuddered. There was something to that spiritual crap, and she couldn't deny it.

There were different types of clones, and she thought she might now be more familiar with them than much of the scientific community. There were inhabited clones; clones that clearly had something inside of them, some essence or spark, and perhaps that might have gone unnoticed had not some clones been created with nothing inside them at all. The empty clones were the ones that threw inhabited ones into relief. And there were two kinds of uninhabited clones that she had seen, and she called them the Drones and the Zombies. Those were her own terms for them; she had no idea if the creators had different names for them. She could tell them apart immediately. The Drones had been trained, and worked like robots. All clones had brains and chemical responses, so they could be taught how to speak and walk and take orders, like computers. The Zombies, on the other hand, had never been trained, and had likely had little to no human contact. Possibly they were imperfect in some way, because the people who had created them had never bothered to socialize them. She wondered what they had done with these clones. Probably kept them in cages for future experiments, she guessed. She'd seen more of this kind of clone walking around the ruins of NeoMidgar than any other. Some of them were still wearing ruined white lab scrubs, and others were naked. They walked around covered in filth, scavenging for food. She'd seen one trying to eat a broken beer bottle. He'd screamed as it cut his lips and tongue, and then he'd tried again to bite it. Scarlet had shot that one three times before hitting her mark. The Zombies were the worst; they unnerved her.

And she had just killed a Hojo Zombie.

_Hojo._ They had cloned _Hojo_, as if one psychotic, powerful genius out to destroy the Planet hadn't been enough.

Unfortunately, most of the clones had survived the blast, and were now wandering the wrecked streets of NeoMidgar. That was the one part of Scarlet's plan that had gone awry; she hadn't banked on that little detail. She guessed that they were so full of Mako that it took a lot to injure them, and even more to kill them. But the good old bullet to the brain never failed, and she and Heidegger were doing what had to be done. More importantly, she was doing it in the name of ShinRa, and she knew that Rufus would approve.

Rufus would be appalled if he knew that these psychotic scientists were carrying on Hojo's work from old ShinRa files. Oh, he would be so quietly, seethingly angry. "Scarlet," he would say in a very even, low voice, "what do you propose we do to this lab? Are you in agreement that it should be liquidated?"

And she would have built those three little bombs for him, and he would have sent the Turksjust as she had, only without the trickeryto plant them. And then, when this mess had happened and NeoMidgar was in ruins and overrun with Mako-injected clones, he would have sent the Turks out to clean up the mess.

Well, Scarlet had no Turks, and no one else she trusted to do this kind of work. Rufus, though, would approve. He appreciated people who took the initiative instead of waiting around for someone else to do the job.

Her PHS rang, and she jumped out of her reverie. She fished it out of the holder on her belt and checked the caller ID. It was Heidegger. She hadn't expected it to be anyone else. She snapped it open and spoke through her mask.

"Yes?" she said.

"Heidegger."

"I know that," Scarlet snapped. "Where are you?"

"Sector Six. I've taken ten of them. It's crazy here, Scarlet. The evacuation is moving this way. There are news reporters; I've got to move on. Where are you?"

"Sector Five, outside of Reeve's stupid arcade, or what's left of it. I've taken fourteen and it's deserted."

"Any news at all of the Turks?"

"I haven't heard a thing," Scarlet answered. She was annoyed, but not surprised, that even in the midst of all this, Heidegger was still obsessing over his lost pets. "Move on to Seven, Heidegger, and let me handle the news and camera crews. Try not to be seen."

"Don't twist your pretty little ankles on that broken pavement," Heidegger said.

_Ah_, Scarlet thought, _a man's reaction to taking an order from a woman._ "Don't cave in the rest of the ground with your fat ass," she replied, and snapped the PHS off before he could get the last word.

She allowed herself a small chuckle at Heidegger's expense and prepared to move on.

There was one clone she was ready to see at every corner, and she hadn't seen him yet.

It was not so much that she would have dearly loved to put a bullet between those overly bright, yet oddly cautious blue eyes. She had nothing against Cloud Strife as a person, she supposed, but if he was alive, he was as dangerous to ShinRa as he had ever been. Scarlet had heard the rumor that he had been killed, and had even heard the rumor that she herself had killed him. She'd seen the grave, simply marked "Strife," outside of Cosmo Canyon, and while that didn't necessarily prove that he was dead, it wouldn't entirely surprise her if he'd gotten himself killed.

Either way, it was likely that his DNA was walking around somewhere in NeoMidgar. If they'd cloned Hojo, they'd probably cloned Strife, too. If he had gotten himself killed, then it was possible, if not likely, that Cloud Strife would have been re-born into his own clone.

It was better to be safe than sorry, and if she saw so much as one of his straw-blond hairs, she would quickly blow his spiky head off his shoulders - inhabited, Zombie, Drone or what-have-you. Cloud Strife must not be allowed to interfere with the delicate, new ShinRa.

Scarlet began to walk on towards Sector Six. She would cross through Six, take out any clones that Heidegger left behind, and see if there were any news reporters still hanging around. If there were, perhaps she might have a few statements for them. She would tell them that ShinRa were here to help, that she was trying to make sense of this tragedy and to re-capture those responsible. She would hint that their leader had deserted them, and that was such a shame, because she'd had every confidence in Reeve Skye before this, and that it would be awful if he proved unfit to run this city. She would avoid any questions about the clones. She would deflect those questions with references to gil for NeoMidgar.

The more she thought about what she wanted to say to them, the more she hoped that they would still be there when she got to Sector Six.

As she walked on, a sound from behind her caught her attention. It was the shuffling sound of an uninhabited Zombie clone dragging its feet. It could have been an injured person, she guessed, but something in her gut told her it was another clone. The moaning, gurgling sounds it was making were too rhythmic and autonomic. Resignedly, Scarlet turned around and took aim.

She had expected to see Cloud Strife around every corner. She was prepared for it.

She had not prepared herself to see Rufus ShinRa.

His yellow hair was long, down to his shoulders, and matted. He shuffled towards her slowly, drawn by the scent of her human chemicals, and moving forward because stimuli told him to put one foot in front of the other. That action was probably using up most of his brain-power.

"Shin...a... Shin...a... Shin...a..." He repeated these sounds as if stuck in a mental loop. They were probably the two sounds he had heard most of his life, and the only ones he had absorbed into his memory. They were nonsense sounds to him, like everything else. His eyes were as blue as she remembered.

Scarlet held her breath and pulled the trigger. Her aim, for once, was true. The body fell backwards without a fuss and landed in the middle of the cracked pavement, arms outstretched to either side of the median on what used to be the road.

When Scarlet let go of the breath she'd been holding, it came out in a short, desolate cry, which she cut off before it was finished. She lowered the gun and choked back a few weak sobs. This was no time to lose her mind; she still had his war to fight.

Scarlet mustered all of her will and walked over to the body of the clone. She was aware that she was shuffling her feet, just as he had done only moments before. She knew she must do this now, because she probably would never get to do it again.

When she reached him, she knelt down and took a long look. His eyes had closed, and he looked young, only into his late teens. With his eyes closed, there was no vacant expression to look at. If not for the matted hair and the glaring hole in his headwhich she specifically did not look athe just looked like Rufus ShinRa, only asleep. Oh, by Shiva, he looked peaceful. He wore white scrubs that were too short for his lanky limbs. Rufus would have hated that. It was a gift that he didn't have to see himself like this, and the only good thing she could think of just then.

Scarlet moved the mask away from her face. She leaned down, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his. He smelled like chemicals, mostly Mako. That was distracting, because Rufus ShinRa had smelled clean like expensive soap, and underneath like power and youth and gil. She put her hand to the side of his face. It was smooth, young man skin, like his had been on the times she had kissed him on the cheek after various ShinRa functions.

She started to cry again, so she pulled away from him. Rufus didn't like hysterics.

Some people liked to think of her as an opportunist (at best, she reckoned,) but she thought of herself as an optimist. She had, in a way, done what she'd wanted to do: she'd said goodbye to Rufus, and given him his dignity. She would absolutely look at it that way, and if she dreamed of this, she would make certain that they were good dreams, in which Rufus would be happy for what she had done.

Scarlet took a survival knife off her belt (she had learned a few things from Tseng before she had started poisoning him,) and cut a lock of the clone's hair. It was only fair that she should keep some of his DNA. When she thought of it that way, she realized that no one else should ever be allowed to take it again. And aside from that, Rufus would hate to be found looking like this. Scarlet knew she had to act quickly to do this last thing. The road was deserted, but one never knew who or what was around the corner.

She backed away from the clone, closed her eyes, and cast her strongest Fire on him.

As the body went quickly into flames, she chose to think of it as a fitting goodbye.

Her eyes were dry and her back was straight as she turned away from him. She pulled the mask back over her nose and mouth as quickly as she could. Then she ripped a string from the bottom of her shirt and tied the lock of hair in it. She pocketed it gently. Now she could move on, and now she could get back to strengthening the new ShinRa. She would carry on his work better than any blubbering, sappy widow might have done.

Scarlet was eager to get to Sector Six now (and eager to get away from the burning mass of DNA and Mako,) but it seemed that she had one more job to finish before she could. God, but this morning seemed endless.

She heard him before she saw him, and there was no mistaking what he had said: "It's mob-rule over there, Reeve."

_Reeve!_ By Shiva, someone was talking to _Reeve!_

Excitement trilling through her, Scarlet quietly followed the voice. It was coming from the alley next to the arcade.

"Sector Five is almost completely evacuated. Most of the arcade was spared and there were survivors...yes, quite a few. One of them was on the news, saying he'd seen you here... Yes, that was the boy..."

She walked around the side of the building. She wasn't trying to be quiet, but her footfalls were soft anyway. She felt bold, strong, and in control of the situation. She was a little surprised when she saw him. He was slight, with dark hair and businessman look about him. What was shocking, however, was that his face was covered in bloody scratches. Even more shocking, he seemed to be making them worse by slowly pulling the fingernails of his free hand down the side of his face as he spoke on the PHS. He did this distractedly, as if it was the most natural action in the world to him.

"Well, we are going to need help, Reeve, and people are wondering..."

He must have felt her eyes on him, because he finally turned to see Scarlet standing in the alley with him. She aimed the gun.

"Oh, Reeve, oh, shi-..."

She pulled the trigger. She had aimed for his foot, and gotten his thigh instead. He screamed and fell, and the PHS flew out of his hand. As he lay screaming and holding his thigh, Scarlet walked casually over to the PHS and picked it up.

"Fletcher? Christ, what happened?" Reeve's tired, panicked voice came over the PHS.

Scarlet smiled. "Why don't you come to Midgar and find out, handsome?" she said over Fletcher's wailing in the background. Then she flipped the PHS shut. Scarlet allowed herself the luxury of wanting the last word, and she usually got it.

* * *

**Avalanche and the Turks**

Tifa was glad to see that she wasn't the only one who was staring at Reisei as if she had lost her mind. She looked to Cloud to try to gauge his reaction. Cloud might be fascinated with the old woman because Aerith was somewhere in there, and he might wallow in his guilt over having let her die the first time, but she doubted that this would skew his reason enough that he would put his living friends at risk because Reisei had suggested it.

But to her disappointment, she saw that Cloud had his "Let me think about this" look on. At once, she felt both despair and hope. She despaired because Cloud was about to base a decision on his emotions. She was hopeful because Jenova seemed dormant, and Cloud was allowed to have those emotions. She wanted to talk to him alone, so that they could reason this out together, without the others jumping in with their opinions. Without the Turks offering their oh-so-helpful input.

Even now, Elena was watching Cloud as if she wanted to say something. Elena looked at Cloud with a very strange mixture of hurt and fascination. Tifa had at first been certain that this had to do with Tseng, but all of Avalanche had left Tseng to his fate that day, not just Cloud. (No one had turned their backs on Tseng more than Aerith had, though, and Elena hadn't yet taken a good look at Reisei. Tifa wondered if, when she put it together, she would look at Reisei the way she looked at Cloud.) And yet Tseng was back in a locked up room on this floor, and Elena was here, doing what she must have thought was her duty. The more Tifa saw of Elenaher glances to the other Turks, the pragmatic assessments that Tifa could so clearly see behind her eyesthe more she thought that this wasn't about Tseng anymore. It might just be about Elena.

Tifa knew that the Turks wanted something out of this. Perhaps they hadn't been sent by Scarlet, and perhaps they hadn't come on their own to kill Cloud, but she also knew that they would let him die if they had the chance.

"No, Reisei."

It was Barret who had finally spoken up. All eyes turned to him.

"We can't go to NeoMidgar. What am I supposed to do with Marlene? I can't take her with, and I can't leave her alone here with all this going on. Uh uh. If you all are crazy enough to go, then good luck."

Cloud opened his mouth to speak, but Cait Sith's mog hopped into the room, Cait perched atop its head. "Yoohoo!" Cait said. "Did y'all forget about me? I can...REEEEEEEEVE!"

The mog lumbered over to where Reeve sat and tipped forward, allowing the robot cat to throw its tiny arms around one of Reeve's arms.

"Hullo, Cait," Reeve said dully. He had finally cleaned up and changed clothes, but he looked shocky, tired and confused. Tifa felt an unaccustomed sympathy for this double turncoat. She had to give him this: he had never wanted to hurt anyone, no matter what it had seemed like in the past, and he had sacrificed his freedom to fight alongside Avalanche. He was weird, though. In some ways, he was weirder than Cloud.

"All I'm sayin'," Cait Sith went on, still holding Reeve's arm, "is that I can stay behind and watch over Marlene, if y'all wanted to..."

"Catbot," Cid said, "you do realize that Sephiroth is out there, don't you?" He had been leaning against the wall behind the Turks, effectively blocking their exit.

"Sephiroth would come with us," Reisei said.

Tifa had to admit that she hadn't even gotten as far as deciding what to do about Sephiroth when this came up. She had been so stunned by Reisei's suggestion that they go to NeoMidgar that she hadn't logically considered him in the equation. It was all too much to think about.

And now Cloud was looking at Tifa as if to ask her what she thought. He looked to her for answers sometimes, and it always seemed to be when she was fresh out of them.

Questions, thoughof those, she had plenty. "Why NeoMidgar, Rei?" she asked. It was the one question no one else seemed to have thought of. All eyes turned back to Reisei.

"To help Cloud," she said.

Tifa was so used to this answer from Reisei that she could almost have said it along with her, and yet, thus far, nothing she had suggested had actually helped Cloud. "How?" Tifa asked. "How will going back to NeoMidgar with Sephiroth help Cloud? I'm not good with riddles."

"It's not a riddle," Reisei said. She twirled her hair around her finger nervously, the way Aerith used to. "It's just that I can't say it with everyone here."

"Why not?" Elena said. "We're kind of in this, too, you know? If you know something that will keep us all alive, maybe you should share it."

Cloud sighed and dropped his head into his hands tiredly. Tifa felt a moment of familiar dread, as this action was so often followed by Cloud looking up with Mako-bright eyes as he fought Jenova for his body. She felt relief to her core when he looked up and was still himself.

"Look," Cloud said, "you're right. It's not fair to keep anything from you. You came here to warn us."

"We came here for help," Elena said. "As long as we're putting cards on the table, here. Might as well be totally honest. Warning you about Sephiroth was like a side project."

Cloud looked at her, his eyebrows raised. "Thank you," he said.

And suddenly Tifa knew that he was going to tell them. He looked at her for the okay to go on, and, although the last thing Tifa wanted was for the Turks to know this, she knew he was going to tell them anyway. Damn him, he always did this to her. He always asked her to say "yes" when she most wanted to say "no." And, even if he'd made some terrifically bad judgments, Cloud was an adult and could take care of himself. She knew that she couldn't tell him what to do, even if he didn't know it.

But she still couldn't say yes. Instead, she looked away.

"The only thing you guys don't know," Cloud said, "is that I still have Jenova cells." He sat back and waited for their reaction. At first the Turks didn't say anything at all, and Tifa figured that they were too shocked to react.

"No shit," Reno said. "Everyone knows that. Hojo jacked you full of everything he could get his hands on; once he injected you with snake venom to see if you would live. You had so much random shit in you, probably if he cut you open, clowns would come out. It's all in your files, man."

Cloud visibly flinched at Reno's words, and decided immediately to shift the focus from them. "You read my files?" he said.

"Duh," Reno said. "We wanted to know what we were up against. The only thing we never figured out about you is your goddamn hair. So what's your point? No pun intended."

Cloud couldn't seem to answer at first. He smiled vaguely and rubbed his forehead. "You're such a dick," he muttered.

Cid and Reno both laughed quietly. Rude looked slightly amused. Tifa took note of these reactions, and the ease with which Cloud had told them his problem. What was more worrying was the fact that he had rubbed his forehead again. That usually meant that Jenova was lurking around in his head. It was probably because he had said her name.

"You're not totally understanding me," Cloud said. "What I mean is, the cells are not dormant. They're not...I can't control them. They're kind of sentient, if you know what I mean."

Elena leaned forward in her chair. Tifa resisted the urge to sit next to Cloud; she didn't want to seem to be coddling him.

"So what does that mean?" Elena asked.

"Well," Cloud said, "Sephiroth had them in his first...when he was alive back then... He doesn't anymore, but that's not the point. Jenova is what gave him his power and his...his motivation." He waited for their reaction. He looked very pale, and Tifa wished that he hadn't decided to put himself through this. Reisei was watching him carefully, with her strange brand of sympathy.

"So what are you saying," Reno asked, only half joking, "that you're the next Sephiroth?"

Cloud flinched again. "There's only one other person I know who has them."

"Vincent Valentine," Reno said, "but it's not exactly true that you two are the only ones. There are others with Jenova cells, clones, Soldiers..."

"Soldiers who are dead now, or at least the majority of them are," Cloud said. "Didn't it ever occur to you that SOLDIER is no more, that the new ShinRa doesn't have an army? And the others? Clones, monsters, things without will or without sentience, or strength or whatever. They're missing some important ingredient that I apparently have. The only other person who has the ingredients is Vincent Valentine, and wherever he is right now, I'm sure he's going through something awful with her. Jenova wants one thing from us, she wants...she wants..."

Cloud's hand went to his forehead again. Tifa let her finger slide over the Sleep materia orb in the bangle on her wrist, and prayed to the Planet that Cloud wouldn't have to fight Jenova off in this room full of people, some of whom weren't friends. She was fairly certain that no one else knew what was going on. To anyone else, it probably looked like he had a headache, or just didn't want to talk about it. She watched him, ready for anything, as he fought Jenova's silent urges.

Finally, Cloud took a breath, swept his hair back, and let his hand drop into his lap. "She wants a reunion," he said in a low voice.

"Then why, exactly, are we getting you and Vincent together?" Cid asked.

Tifa thought that was a damn fine question.

"And why in NeoMidgar?" Barret added.

"I can try to answer the first question," Cloud said. "To try to fight her once and for all. I have no idea how, but that's the idea. As for the second question...Reisei?" He turned to her. "Since you suggested it? I know you said it was to help me, but how? Now that everyone knows what my problem is... well, one of my problems," he added with a slight half-smile, "we might as well talk about it."

"Because of the Lifestream, Cloud. Because it's the only way I can help you. Because I can't see the future, but I can see that you might die, and in NeoMidgar you might not. I can't tell you the whole thing now."

Tifa felt her heart seize up when Reisei said that Cloud might die.

"It's one thing I can't tell you in front of everyone," Reisei said. "You would have to make a decision, and you're the only one who can make it, so I can't say it in a room full of people. Is that okay?"

Cloud was at a loss. "It has to be, I guess, if you can't tell me now, but... I also can't make this decision for everyone else, if you know what I mean."

Reeve finally spoke up. "I'm for going back to NeoMidgar," he said, "but I have my own reasons for that, so maybe I'm not the best one to be giving my input, either. I just want to say that up front so you all know where I stand. But my question is this: here, or NeoMidgar, what's the difference where we fight her? If that's what we're planning on doing, I mean. NeoMidgar is already in ruins..."

"'Cause what are we supposed to do, get Vincent maybe Yuffie and then all go there together?" Cid asked, at the same time that Reisei said, "Cloud and Vincent have to be separated until..." and Tifa said, "With Sephiroth along for the ride, no less." Over the three of them, Barret said, "And none of this helps me figure out what how to keep Marlene safe."

All at once, everyone was talking over everyone else. Reno said something about not being sure that Tseng could travel, and Elena said that was the least of their problems. Nanaki put in that no one had told Yuffie about any of this yet, and Cloud asked everyone to be quiet for a moment.

In the midst of all of this, someone's PHS rang, and everyone began fishing around in their pockets or bags to answer theirs. It ended up being Reeve's PHS, and he held up his hand in a request for quiet.

"Fletcher," he said. "Fletcher, thank god. How is everything over there? ...Uh huh. Good, complete the evacuation... Thank heaven for that. What about the survivors? ...Really? No shit! Was he a young kid? With long, brown hair and freckles?" Reeve suddenly looked overcome with relief. He smiled, and his eyes were wet. "Oh, that's...that's great, Fletcher. I saw that kid, talked to him... I'mI'm all right, I'm just glad, you know... Yes, I'm trying to get back there; I have something going on here, Fletcher, it has to do with preventing more damage, and I can't quite..."

Suddenly, Tifa, and everyone else in the room, heard what sounded like a gunshot over the PHS, and immediately after, the unmistakable sound of a man screaming.

Reeve almost dropped the PHS. "Jesus, Fletcher, are you still... Fletcher are you still on the line?" He looked up at the others, frantically, and then at Cloud. "SomethingOh, shit, Fletcher? Christ, what happened?" He pressed the PHS to his ear and stopped talking. At first he looked confused, then his jaw dropped, and the color drained from his face.

"Scarlet?" he whispered into the phone. He waited a moment, and then softly clicked the PHS shut again. He looked back to Cloud.

"I think Scarlet killed my secretary," he whispered. "She's in NeoMidgar, and she wants me to come back."

Tifa knew that this would probably seal the deal, at least for some of the people present. It all seemed to be happening in NeoMidgar, anyway, and as Reeve had pointed out...

"...It doesn't make a difference where we end up," Tifa said. "One way or another, Jenova's going to make herself known to us. If Cloud thinks it's right, and if Reisei thinks it will help..."

Barret turned away and flexed the fingers of his remaining hand, cracking the knuckles in frustration.

"I can help," Cait Sith said. He was still pressed up against Reeve's leg. "I can help Marlene, she's a big girl..."

"I don't like leavin' her alone with all this going on," Barret said.

"If it goes on here, in Cosmo Canyon," Cloud said, "then everyone in Cosmo Canyon will be at risk, including Marlene. If it goes on in NeoMidgar, which is being evacuated...and we take Sephiroth with us?"

Barret nodded, still with his back to everyone.

"I wouldn't mind seeing what Scarlet's up to," Elena said. "We can leave Tseng here..."

"Tseng will be fine coming along with you."

Tifa looked up to see Tseng standing in doorway from the hall. He looked steady, clean, and much stronger than he had earlier. It occurred to Tifa that he had Sephiroth to thank for that, and she tried to block out of her mind the image of Sephiroth casting Aerith's limit break. In a perfect world, the Great Gospel would have gone to Reisei. Or rather, in a perfect world, Reisei wouldn't even be here.

Reisei, Tifa noticed, was staring at Tseng. To anyone else she might have looked vacant, but Tifa knew her of old. Reisei was remembering. So far, Tseng hadn't even looked at her. Tifa wondered what would happen when he did. But thoughts like that were for later on. Right now there were more pressing matters.

"My guards?" Tifa said to Tseng. Damn him, she had posted guards outside of his room. He had such nerve walking around as if he was welcome anywhere in her inn.

"They were suddenly tired," Tseng said.

Elena turned to face him. "How much do you know about this mission, Tseng, sir?" She said "Tseng, sir" as if it were one word. To Elena, Tifa supposed, it might have been.

Tseng smiled very slightly. "The guards became tired about a half an hour ago. I know as much as you've all told each other since you met in this room." He looked fondly and perhaps proudly at Elena for a moment, and then he turned his attention to Cloud. "I know a bit about the way Hojo worked with Jenova. Perhaps I can help you, too."

Cloud looked at Tseng, nervous, but resolute. "Thank you," he said again, to Tifa's further irritation. He thanked people a lot, when they should have been thanking him.

"How the hell are we going to manage all this with only one aircraft?" Cid asked.

"Um..." Reeve shook himself free of his shock and cleared his throat. "Two aircrafts. I came in on the Tempest. So, uhh, you could go and get Vincent and Yuffie in the Highwind, and we can take the Tempest and meet you in NeoMidgar."

"With one pilot!" Cid said. He was impatient and agitated. Tifa was, too, and she was thankful that Cid was asking all the questions that she wanted to ask.

"Uh, no," Reeve said quietly. "There is one other person who can pilot an aircraft." He looked at Cloud levelly. "He piloted it here already."

Cid's mouth fell open, and, if Tifa had let him smoke inside the Shildra, she was sure that he would have just dropped his cigarette. "_Sephiroth_ flew you here?"

Reeve shrugged. "He's a good pilot."

The idea of it was too much for Tifa. She was willing to go to NeoMidgar, but she thought she would have to draw the line at letting Sephiroth take them all there.

"If I might interrupt, I'm a good pilot, too," Tseng offered. "If I flyand I assure you that I can and am well enough tothen Cloud can keep an eye on Sephiroth."

Cloud raised his head and looked at Tseng, slightly surprised. "Why me?" he asked.

"Because you beat him once," Tseng said. "And, Jenova cells or no, I'm sure that you could again, if the need should arise."

Cloud thought about this, then nodded. Tifa suspected that Cloud wasn't as worried about Sephiroth as (_himself_) he should have been. She could remember a cold, paranoid, angry Cloud, hiding his passion or turning it into violent rage. Over the years he had lost his dramatic coldness and violent paranoia and had become just distant and cautious, but yet here he was, ready to trust Sephiroth, and she couldn't imagine why.

"Then, there's only one thing for us to do," Cloud said. He looked around the room, took a head-count, and mental notes on everyone there. "Let's split into teams."

* * *

It was difficult to shave with only the barest glances into the mirror, but Cloud had managed it again. The Bitch had been quiet all morning, but it would be so disconcerting to look up into the mirror and see her in his eyes again. She never even gave him the decency of a warning. 

He had taken another shower, almost guiltily, because he knew it was weird, and a quirk; another sign of his neurosis. He knew he had these fixations when things were going badly, and he knew that the obsessive cleaning had to do with one thing: Hojo. He had spent years trying to wash Hojo's hands off him, and Hojo's chemicals out of his system. He vaguely remembered the imprisonment, the sickness, being restrained and cut open and seeing Zack murdered, but those things were distant and he saw them as if through a veil. He hadn't even remembered them until he'd fallen into the Lifestream in Mideel, and it felt as if all of that had happened to someone else.

Reno had reminded him again of the main things: Hojo's hands on him. Hojo's eyes on him. Hojo's voice.

Years ago, he had heard other Soldiers talking about post traumatic stress disorder. Cloud had found the words "traumatic" and "stress" trite and insignificant. "Disorder" was flimsy and vague. The only word in that phrase that really worked for him was "post." He and his friends had faced down Sephiroth in his final form, and Cloud was certain: in terms of skin-crawling horror, Sephiroth had been nothing compared to Hojo. Sephiroth had only been the instrument.

_As you will be,_ a small voice in the back of his mind said. Cloud winced. The voice hadn't been Jenova's; it had been his.

"You all right, Cloud?" Tifa said through the door. She must have come into his room while he was in the shower. Cloud didn't mind this time. He only locked the doors against Tifa when The Bitch was around.

"Uhh, yeah, just..." Cloud looked around the bathroom. He'd forgotten to bring his clothes in with him. "Could you hand me my clothes?" he asked, and opened the door a crack.

"Sure, just a sec."

He heard Tifa walk over to the desk by the bed, where he had carelessly thrown his pants. "These?" she asked. She sounded slightly confused.

"Yeah, anything," he said.

She handed him his pants, and he began to hurriedly put them on. Standing up, he noticed that they were his oldest pair: the ripped, beaten, baggy pants that he had worn so often through his Avalanche days. "Oh," he said, in quiet surprise. He hadn't even realized he'd gotten them out of the depths of his closet. He had washed these many times, too, but the blood stains had never fully come out. Aerith's blood was still on them. He stripped them off quickly.

"Can you get something else out of the"

Before he could finish his request, Tifa's hand appeared through the opened door, holding a different pair of pants.

"Thanks," Cloud muttered. Christ, everyone was in his head sometimes. "Party in Cloud's head," he said under his breath, "Mako will be provided."

He'd just finished putting his pants on when Tifa knocked softly and asked if she could come in.

"Uh huh," Cloud said, distracted as he looked around the room for anything he might want to bring with him. He wanted to bring something he thought he would need, because bringing these small things implied that he _would_ need them. It would mean that he would still be shaving and washing and dressing, and other things that people did when they weren't ready to give up.

Tifa closed the door behind her and leaned against it. Cloud suddenly remembered that the last time she'd been in the bathroom with him, he had - no, _Jenova - _had hated her for it.

"Cloud..."

He turned to her quickly, too quickly, perhaps, because she started back. He sometimes forgot his own speed and strength. But he had stopped her from saying whatever she was going to say, and that was all right, because he didn't want to talk about anything that might happen.

"It's okay, Teef," he said, hoping that his eyes were telling her the same thing. "This is good, I think. I think we can win."

She smiled at him. Cloud wondered if he was cruel to have told her that, because he knew the effect his confidence, however false, had on her.

"I mean, I'm nervous, but I think we have a chance. You know... You know she doesn't want _me._ She wants the Planet. This is about saving the Planet. I can handle that."

_I can handle fighting for the Planet,_ he added mentally, _I can't handle her using me to destroy it._

Tifa's smile widened. "I know you can," she said.

"Not alone, though. I mean, we all saved it last time, Aerith most of all. If it had been just me, the Planet would have been soup. I just mean..."

"You mean that it's okay if you think of it in terms of keeping the Planet from destruction, and not keeping yourself from destruction."

Cloud blinked. "Something like that," he said, although he really wasn't thinking about it.

Without giving any indication of what she was about to do, Tifa put her hand on his arm. Cloud tensed, expecting the burn of Jenova's jealousy, or pain of her rage, or the numbness she liked to tease him with, but again, Jenova was somewhere else. Her cells slept in him. All he felt was Tifa's calloused fingers. She was warm, and the contrast to the air made him shiver.

She slid her hand up to his neck, and it was _exquisite._ It had been so long...

"Can you feel that?" Tifa whispered. "Is it... is she...?"

"Shh, don't say her name, don't call her back," Cloud said quickly. He took Tifa's other hand and put it on his chest, and decided to let The Bitch sleep, plan, plan to kill him, plan to dissolve the Planet and suck any leftover particles of energy into herself if she wanted to, as long as he could have a few moments, just a few moments more.

He had closed his eyes, and was surprised to feel Tifa's lips on his. He gasped awkwardly, swayed, and suddenly Tifa was pressed up against him, with her cheek to his and her bare arms on his back, and it was so sweet that Cloud was delirious with it.

"I haven't held you in so long," Tifa whispered. "Is it strange? Does anything hurt?"

"No," Cloud said in a strained whisper. "I think I just forgot what it was like."

"Mm hmm," she said into his neck, and the vibration of her voice close to his skin made him tingle all over. "It's not healthy, Cloud. Extended terms of sensory deprivation are so unhealthy. Over-sensitizes you to stimuli."

Cloud released the breath he'd been holding in a soft laugh, and accessed logical speech somewhere in his brain. "I love it when you talk dirty," he managed through a haze of pleasure.

She giggled. Cloud felt her laughter to the base of his spine.

There was a knock at the door, and Tifa, likely having no idea of the depths to which Cloud was experiencing this, pulled away from him quickly. Her arm was still around his back. Cloud clenched his teeth, held his breath, and waited for her to move to open the bathroom door. When she didhastily wiping her eyesCloud was prepared for the emptiness.

Tifa stepped out of the bathroom and into Cloud's room. Cloud followed her out, and went to his closet for a shirt.

"Who is it?" Tifa asked.

"It's me," Reisei said from behind the door. "I need to talk to Cloud now."

"Oh," Tifa said. Cloud heard the disappointment in her voice. There was fear in there, too. She looked at Cloud to see if she should open the door. He pulled his shirt on and nodded. "Yeah, hang on," she said to Reisei.

She unlatched the door, and Reisei stepped in.

"It's time for us to talk," she said to Cloud. "And I have to ask you questions, and ask you to make some decisions. They're important, and you should make them while you still can."

Cloud looked at Tifa. The words "while you still can" didn't bode well, and they both knew it. Although Cloud didn't know what Reisei was going to ask him, he could feel the weight of what she had said, and he believed her.

"I'll wait for you downstairs," Tifa said softly.

Cloud knew how much it cost her to leave without knowing what was going on. "I'll be down soon," he said.

Tifa wanted to say more to him, but opted to get it all over with. With a nod to Reisei, she left the room and closed the door behind her.

Reisei smiled brightly. "Well!" she said. "Here we are, Cloud."

"Yes," Cloud said. He sat on the bed, and invited Reisei to sit beside him. She walked to him in her strange, difficult to watch style. A young girl's sashay, bent crooked with age.

"Cloud?" she said, as she turned to face him. Her eyes were shining with Mako, brimming with tears, but she was still smiling. "Cloud, would you rather live, or die? And be honest."

Cloud blinked and leaned back. He certainly hadn't expected that question.

"I'd rather live," he said. What else did she expect him to say?

"It's easy to say that now," she said. "You don't have the choice right in front of you. But if you make the decision nowright here, right now, and promise you'll follow through no matter whatit will make it easier for everyone." She took his hand, kissed the back of it, and pressed his palm to her face. "Personally, I think you should live," she said. "But I know that the decision is yours. So when the time comes to live or to die, what will you do?"

"I'll...I'll live, Reisei. But I don't understand. Why are you...?"

"Cloud," she said, even more softly. She leaned so far forward that they were almost nose to nose. Her eyes were quite bright; in fact they seemed brighter than they had even before. "Are you going to live, or die?"

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her, again, that of course he would rather live, and if the decision was his...barring any unforeseen circumstances, such as saving someone else, like Tifa for instance...

But Reisei's green eyes swam in his vision, and there was a sound...like voices he recognized, but had never heard.

"Are you going to live, or die?"

_Live,_ he thought. _But..._

_...but..._

...but the voices sounded so warm, like coming home...

"Cloud, are you going to live, stay here on the Planet, with your friends? With Cid, and Nanaki, and Barret, and Tifa? Or are you going to die? The decision is yours."

Cloud blinked, and finally pulled away from Reisei. There was a fading hum in his head, and he squeezed his eyes shut to clear it. "Of course I want to live, Reisei," he said. "What...why are you asking me this?"

The old woman leaned away from him, her expression perfectly unreadable.

"Reisei?"

"Just remember what you said."

"I...Okay, I will."

She smiled vaguely. "There's one more thing, Cloud. I don't think you're going to like it."

"What else is new?"

"It's just that you're going to have to do something that's not really in your nature."

"Yeah?" Cloud asked. "What's that, follow instructions?" He laughed half-heartedly.

Reisei raised her white eyebrows. "Kind of," she said. "More to the point, you're going to have to surrender. You're going to have to let yourself die."


	14. chapter fourteen

**Vincent Valentine**

The PHS was ringing, but exhaustion kept him from moving to answer it. His skin had been peeled off, stripped to the bone, and then fitted back on like a glove. He knew it had. There was blood to prove it.

And then it had gone quiet. Jenova was gone, and Vincent Valentine didn't need two guesses to figure out where her concentration had gone. Cid was coming to get him. He was going to bring him to where Cloud Strife was. Clearly, Jenova was going to bring the others, as well. She had some rounding up to do, and not a lot of time in which to do it.

For himself, he had been ready to face her for years. Cloud had always said no, no, not yet, we don't have what it takes to fight her. She had gotten stronger, and all the while, Vincent had wondered what made Cloud think that something was going to come along to make their fight against her any easier.

Over the years, Vincent had gained great respect and fondness for Tifa Lockheart. But when she had told him, in a tight, controlled voice, that Sephiroth had returned, he'd immediately thought that she'd spent too much time with Cloud Strife and had finally lost her mind.

He had seen Lucrecia's son die, and his death had been a mercy. Sephiroth had been an unhappy, dangerous animal that needed to be put down. Helping to accomplish this had been part of Vincent's penance.

He could recall Lucrecia's words to him: "I wanted to die... But the Jenova inside me wouldn't let me die."

Jenova wouldn't let any of them die so easily, just as she wouldn't let them live. But Vincent was certain that Sephiroth had died. He had never, ever questioned it.

However, Tifa hadn't told him that Sephiroth had been alive this entire time. She'd said that he had _returned_.

_Cloning..._

Vincent was filled with disgusted anger. Why couldn't anyone ever leave well enough alone? As much as he had hated Hojo's mad son, he had pitied Lucrecia's lost child. Her voice came to him again:

_My dear, dear child. Ever since he was born I never got to hold him, even once..._

Likely she'd never even touched him. Vincent had, though, and in the murky haze that was his memory of Hojo's lab, the young boy still stood out; a bright, terrible secret.

* * *

_Vincent had awoken with his skin prickling, which was nothing unusual in itself. The difference was that this time he felt that way because someone was staring at him. He could feel the other person's heavy gaze._

_Before opening his eyes, he very carefully tested the metal bands over his wrists. Neither budged, and he was startled by the _clink_ of the left one. The memory of what Hojo had done to him came flooding back, accompanied by the usual sick desperation. It wasn't just the claw that was different; his entire body was different. He no longer needed to eat, for one thing, and sleep was more of a self-induced trance._

_"They won't break," came a quiet voice from across the room. "That's alloy. It's too strong."_

_The voice was unfamiliar. Vincent was halfway convinced that he was hallucinating, because the voice also sounded young. _

_"He's nothing if not thorough, Hojo is."_

_Finally, curiosity won out over apprehension, and Vincent opened his eyes slightly. The light was directly over him, and he instinctively tried to throw his arm over his eyes. He was met with resistance and another _clink_ of metal as the claw came in contact with the metal loop again. He shut his eyes tight._

_"That's instinctual behavior," the voice said. "You know you can't move your arms, but you tried to anyway. It's because you can't help it."_

_The light had given him a blinding headache, and Vincent was still almost certain that he was dreaming._

_"Thank you for that keen observation, my precocious youngster," he tried to say, but his sarcasm was as tapped out as he was, and anyway, all that came out was a raspy whisper._

_"Your throat is dry from lack of use, not dehydration. You have an I.V. drip." Vincent felt a slight, stinging pull in the crook of his right arm, and he guessed that his visitor had touched the I.V. lineor at least he had dreamed that he or she had. "There's fluid in there and it goes into your blood. That's where it goes after a while when you drink water anyway. I.V. just skips the drinking part."_

_There was something eerie about this childish voice, something in the way it droned these facts like a machine, that unnerved him. This was starting to feel more like a nightmare than a dream. Vincent wasn't ready to open his eyes yet._

_"You have a scar on your arm." _

_He froze when he felt the child's finger run down the length of his human arm._

_"Scarring is the body's way of healing itself. First the blood clots. But not if you have a sickness." He heard the child take a step back. "I saw it happen with monkeys. If you have a blood sickness, the blood doesn't clot, and you bleed to death."_

_"Hemophilia," Vincent rasped._

_"I know what it's called," the voice answered coldly._

_The change in tone made Vincent to decide to finally open his eyes again. He eased them open very slowly, letting them adjust a little at a time to the light. They watered and stung anyway, but he could make out a shape to his right._

_"Pupils dilate in the dark to let more light in, and they contract in the light to block it out, like a camera lens. When the light of an image hits your retina, it's upside down. The optic nerve puts it back the right way and sends it to your brain."_

_The figure moved towards light switch by the door. "The cornea is full of nerves. It hurts when you peel it back. But it regenerates. The vitreos is in the middle of your eyes. It's like egg whites when you cut it open. I can turn the light down if you want to look around."_

_Vincent did want to look around, but more than that, he now wanted to get away from this child. There was something wrong with that voice; no child should be able to talk so detachedly about cutting someone's eye open._

_The lights went down, and Vincent found he could make out shapes in the lab. The shapes and all the noises were familiar. Hojo had been away for days. Vincent had stopped caring years ago. But the child...this was different. This made him nervous._

_He heard more soft footsteps, and then the child was at his side again. Vincent could now see him clearly, and the first thing that struck him was how disproportionately _adult_ the boy was. It wasn't just that his proportions were slightly strange (though they were: he had the unnerving dimensions and balance of an adult,) it was his eyes. They were green, cool, and clinical. He couldn't have been more than seven years old._

_Vincent guessed that this child would turn heads if he walked down the street, but he had the creeping suspicion that the boy had never walked down a public street before. He wore white scrubs like everyone else, and his hair was as black as onyx. His eyes cast a very slight glow._

_"Mako," Vincent said._

_"Mako is the energy of the Planet. When it is condensed it becomes materia, and if you are lucky enough to have it injected into..."_

_"You should read more books," Vincent said suddenly. Listening to this child was like listening to a college lecture._

_The boy frowned and looked indignant. "I read every day."_

_Vincent had a sudden intuition. "You should read books other than what Hojo tells you to read," he said. He had suddenly realized that this was Hojo's student, and probably his successor. "If you want to be strong..." he began._

_"I _am_ strong," the boy said, and there was an edge of anger in his voice._

_Vincent looked at him, still chilled by his detachment, but unimpressed by his anger. He doubted that this young boy could do anything to him that would even come close to Hojo's "experiments." He decided to venture another intuition._

_"If you did more of what interested you and less of what you were ordered to do...that would be real strength."_

_The boy looked at him quizzically._

Take that, Hojo,_ Vincent thought. And he only hoped that it wouldn't cause trouble for the child._

_The boy stared at him for a moment with a searching look. "I'm Sephiroth," he said suddenly._

_"Vincent."_

_"Vincent Valentine, I know. I looked at your chart."_

_"Tree of Life," Vincent said._

_The boy blinked. Something had caught him off guard. He tilted his head to the side and asked, "What does that mean?"_

_Vincent raised his eyebrows and tried to smile, and although he was sure he looked quite sinister, he didn't think this boy would be intimidated in the least. "You mean to say that there's something you don't know?"_

_To his surprise, the child smiled back, though only slightly. "You made a reference I didn't understand. Does it have to do with me?"_

_Something about the question sounded hopeful, though the boy tried to hide it. Now Vincent felt he wanted to give him this information, but when he searched his brain, he found that he wasn't sure exactly what the name meant. But he suddenly didn't want to let the boy down, so he decided he would tell him what little he did know._

_"The Sephiroth are the ten spheres that make up the Tree of Life," he said. "A map of creation, all the numbers and letters that make up the universe."_

_Sephiroth looked somewhat intrigued and somewhat suspicious. "I've never heard of this."_

_"Then you should look it up and read about it," Vincent said. "I know there's a library..."_

_"Hojo doesn't allow me!" Sephiroth said, and he drove his fist into his palm in frustration. "And...he knows I love to read."_

_Vincent smiled. "One day you'll be more powerful than Hojo is," he said. "Then you can overrule his laws."_

_Sephiroth turned his eyes back to Vincent, and for the first time, Vincent noticed that the pupils were strange, almost catlike. Another surge of anger threatened the tight seal he had placed over the well of it years ago. Hojo was putting mutating cells into _children_ now._

_"Yes, but in the meantime, there are things that are kept from me," Sephiroth said. His eyes narrowed and he looked critically at Vincent. "You knew something I didn't know," he said. "It's possible that you know more things that I don't know."_

_Vincent hadn't felt anything other than half-formed, primitive emotions in so long that he was surprised at the pang of wistful nostalgia he now felt. Children were so innocently confident that they knew everything, until they learned something new, and then they went back to thinking that they knew everything again. This child, who had grown up in a laboratory under Hojo's rule, with little or no exposure to the outside world, was no exception._

_"I could come back when Hojo is away again," Sephiroth said. _

_There was an eager quality to his voice, and he sounded slightly unsure. Vincent had been trained to detect vulnerability in order to exploit it. He didn't want to exploit it now, but he knew he'd heard something rare: a hint of humanity in this child. The boy wasn't used to being told "no," but Vincent was a stranger, and strangers were unpredictable. There was probably more humanity somewhere in him, buried under a layer of frost. Vincent wondered if he could find it._

_"I don't know much," Vincent said, "but I'm willing to tell you things that I do know. But I would hate for you to get into trouble with Hojo."_

_Sephiroth glared at him. "Hojo thwarts me," he said. "He doesn't scare me."_

He should,_ Vincent thought, but gave no voice to this. Sephiroth wouldn't believe him anyway._

_"I think I will come back when I can," Sephiroth said. "I'm sure you don't know as much as I do, but you must know some things." _

_Vincent nodded wearily; this bright, strong child made him feel as used up as he knew he was. "Some things," he agreed._

_He wanted to ask more about Hojo, but he refrained. Sephiroth might suspect him if he did. But he was curious as to how this child had come to be Hojo's student, living in his lab._

_"Where are your parents?" he asked._

_Sephiroth shrugged. "My mother is Jenova. She died right after she gave birth to me. My father left her before I was born." He said these things with a practiced (scripted, Vincent guessed) calm._

_Unaware of how much the name of Jenova would come to mean to him in the future, Vincent merely filed it away in the back of his mind. Because he had never known how much time had passed between Hojo's capture of him and Sephiroth's first visit, it had taken him years to realize that Sephiroth was not the son of Jenova, who was believed at the time to be the last Ancient. And it would be many years before he realized that Sephiroth was Lucrecia's son._

_"Pretty name, Jenova," Vincent commented._

_Sephiroth shrugged. "I don't know anything else about her. I asked Hojo once and he said I had more important things to think about."_

_So, Hojo had most likely killed the boy's parents and taken him to the lab. He was brainwashing the child that his parents no longer mattered. The whole thing was disgusting._

_"Hojo is an ass-licker," Vincent murmured. "A psychotic, dickless ass-licker."_

_Sephiroth tilted his head, and the corners of his lips drew up in a surprisingly pretty smirk. "Ass-licker," he repeated. "That's funny. What's dickless?"_

_Caught swearing in front of a child, at first Vincent was shocked at himself. _Ah, what the hell?_ he figured. This boy needed something to laugh about. He needed to laugh at Hojo. "You know what men have that women don't?"_

_Sephiroth frowned. "The Y chromosome?"_

_Vincent fought the urge to laugh at this boy. "Aside from that."_

_"Male reproductive organs?"_

_Vincent smirked and looked away. This clever child would figure it out._

_"Oh," Sephiroth said, after a moment. "The suffix, '-less', without." A pause, then: "Oh! Dickless! Hojo is _dickless!_ That's funny. That's very funny!"_

_There was a dry, hitching sound, and Vincent looked at the boy. He was grinning, showing perfectly straight, white teeth. Vincent realized that the child was starting to laugh._

_"Haha!" Sephiroth said. He thought about it again. "Ha! That's funny!" And broke down into honest, childish giggles. _

_Sephiroth had come to him only a few more times after the initial visit. Vincent had never had a chance to tell him much, but Sephiroth was eager and interesting. Hojo had eventually found out about their visits, and though he never said so, Vincent knew that this was the reason he'd needed to finally lock him away. _

_Vincent could still remember the sound of the child's laughter; he had heard it on a few more, though rare, occasions. It was the only thing about him that was still seven years old._

_The next time Vincent looked into those cool, green eyes, it was over the blade of the Masamune as Aerith slumped over and fell into Cloud Strife's arms._

_

* * *

_

Outside of his one small room, Vincent heard the distant rumble of the Highwind. The familiar sound made his stomach clench with nerves. He had spent many long, dark days on that airship, waiting for the day to come when he would have to face down Sephiroth with the rest of Avalanche. Although it wasn't Sephiroth he was afraid he'd have to face this time, he knew that he was going to another battle, likely for the Planet again. And chances were good that at least part of the war would be fought in his own body.

It was no use lying around on the floor and waiting. With great effort, Vincent pulled himself up to his knees and looked around the room. There was blood everywhere. He would meet the others outside rather than have them come in and see this mess.

The Highwind was coming in fast, and Vincent got up to change his clothes.

Jenova remained silent.

* * *

**Cloud Strife**

_"The crowd roars_

_It's deep and so unhealthy_

_The rest you know_

_I feel the hands that felt me_

_Cold hands_

_Your hands_

_Cover my mouth_

_While I'm staring into bright lights..."_

_Malpractice - Faith No More_

_

* * *

_

_There was no sun, there was no moon, there were no stars, and nothing to tell day from night. There was only Mako green and fluorescent white. The clink of metal and the whisper of white cotton starched with dried blood. Latex on his arm and the sting of the needle, and sometimes, but only rarely, the gloves would come off and the doctor would touch with clinically appreciative hands. _

_He would ask no questions, but he would touch. There were no words to say to this, and just one thought: one of these days, when the hands came down on him again, he would be ready. _

_And there was the scientist's hand (_doctor, he calls himself doctor..._) dry and pale under the white light; old, dark blood lining the cracks in his skin, and under his fingernails... _

_He couldn't scream ("_I'm tired of your noise, it keeps me from concentrating..."_) and_

At least remember my name! It's...

_...metal loops had clinked into place over his wrists, but someday the doctor would forget..._

Do you remember your name? Do you know who you are...?")

_...and he would be ready..._

You are no one...And now you belong to her...")

_...and there would a scalpel or scissors or any of the many sharp things the doctor kept by his table and..._

You don't have a name...you are forfeit...to Jenova...")

_...This time, he would be ready. He would slither one hand out from under the metal loop, and when the doctor leaned over him and his throat was exposed he would...he had to..._

My name...It's...

_Maybe he didn't have a name after all, but the doctor did. The doctor called himself..._

_

* * *

_

**Sephiroth**

The Tempest was cutting through the night sky, and the Lockheart girl had finally dropped off to sleep. Her bloodshot, angry eyes had closed even as she'd stared at him, vowing, he knew, to stay awake and keep watch. She slumped in her seat against the window as the lights from outside of the airship blinked across her features. Her fist was still clenched, and the Masamune was at her side.

Her hatred for him was tiring her out. Sephiroth could see it. It took energy to hate, more energy than it did to just fight. Her fear had kept her alert, but her passion had worn her down. Her hands were calloused and her arms and legs were firm: this girl was a fighter, and her technique was probably good, but her emotions were her undoing.

Strife had fallen asleep with very little struggle, and was now sprawled on the floor, on his back, arms thrown out to the sides. This struck Sephiroth as a very unlikely position and he was surprised that, even asleep, he left himself so vulnerable. That certainly wasn't SOLDIER training.

Keeping watch on Sephiroth nowas laughable as it waswas Reeve. Barret Wallace, Nanaki and Cid had gone on in the Highwind. And so Reeve sat on the floor of the airship with his knees drawn up to his chest, resting his chin on them. Tifa Lockheart would have been better served to have let the Turks guard him, if she thought it was necessary. But the Turks were in the cockpit, and anyway, Sephiroth hadn't missed the glances between Elena and Tifa. Clearly, the blond Turk resented Cloud Strife. And clearly, Tifa Lockheart couldn't trust her because of that.

These people couldn't even call themselves a fighting team, and they expected to win against Jenova. They would be a dismal mess on the battlefield, and Sephiroth knew that Lockheart would be the first one to die after Jenova got rid of Cloud Strife. By the Planet, he could see perfectly how Jenova would do it. Strife first, and she would use his body. Then Lockheart, because she would be the closest to him and would be too stupidly emotional to run. This would anger Barret Wallace, and he would be next. Reeve would get in the way by trying to help, and he wouldn't last a moment.

It might be easier to kill Cloud Strife before Jenova made her move. In fact, he knew it would be easier, if only he could do it right here, right now, while Strife was asleep and unaware. None of them would have a prayer of stopping him. Reeve Skye, to stop him if he tried? Reeve Skye had some valor, but was powerless. Sephiroth could break Strife's neck before Reeve would even think to get up off the floor.

And then there was Strife himself. Certainly it would be easy to kill him while he slept, but if he should wake up and fight back? Sephiroth knew he'd be safer in overestimating him than underestimating him. Something in Strifewhether it had been Jenova cells, Mako or simple righteous angerhad allowed him to throw Sephiroth into the Lifestream. Strife, a sixteen year old SOLDIER reject, had managed to kill him once, with no outside help.

And Sephiroth had a good idea that Strife's well of will and strength actually had little to do with Jenova, anyway. As odd as it seemed to him, Cloud Strife was a force, a bizarre creation of power and pathos. It was nearly unthinkable that this confused, unpredictable man sleeping sprawled out on the floor was a leader; but it was so. If the people around him didn't like him, they at least gave him grudging respect. It was unlikely that, even if he could kill Cloud Strife later on, he could do so without having to fight off the rest of them.

And more problematic was the fact that if he did that, he would be depriving Tifa Lockheart of the one thing he knew he owed her: a choice.

So there would have to be another way.

He closed his eyes in order to think better, to plan a possible course of action for when Jenova chose to act. He felt he knew her better than anyone, and had a chance of predicting her. If he could get the others out of the way, or even just use them peripherally, he could handle her more easily.

Sephiroth was distracted by a light scratching sound, and he opened his eyes to see Strife clenching and unclenching his hand against the floor. Reeve had noticed, too, and was watching the sleeping man a bit nervously.

Strife made some half-formed sound of distress, and Tifa Lockheart's eyes flew open. Immediately after looking at Strife, her eyes were on Sephiroth, accusing. It was almost as if she was daring him to try something, or to even say something. Sephiroth stared back coldly. If she wanted to waste her time on him instead of taking care of the problem, that was also her choice.

It was Reeve who finally pulled himself up to his knees and made as if to reach for Strife, to shake him awake.

"Don't," Tifa whispered.

Reeve looked up at her questioningly.

"He'll kill you," she said. "He's..." She stopped to glare at Sephiroth again, hating him for being there to hear this. "He's somewhere else."

Sephiroth took another look at Strife, ignoring Lockheart's hateful gaze. The outstretched arms, rigid stillness, and overall attitude suddenly made sense, and he knew exactly where Cloud Strife was just then. He knew better than Tifa Lockheart, and he also had a pretty good idea of what might come next. Sephiroth didn't know how often the two had shared a bed and what she might have seen, and he didn't care to know. She was about to make a big mistake. Sephiroth saw it the moment before she did.

"Hojo!" Strife gasped, and before Tifa or Reeve even knew where to look, he had sat up, eyes vacant but still searching, and scrambled backwards. He saw the Masamune and grabbed it.

Sephiroth felt slower than he ever remembered feeling, but he was still faster than anyone in the room, and he darted across the room and swiped the Masamune away with his forearm, batting it out of Strife's hands before it could do any damage.

Strife dove at him like a cornered animal. Sephiroth held his hand up and pushed him back down to the floor, keeping his hand flat on the other man's chest.

"Your name is Cloud Strife," he said. "Hojo is dead." As he made this last statement, he hoped it was true.

Strife's eyes met Sephiroth's briefly, and then darted away. Then they turned back to him, and Sephiroth saw the dawning of horror in them. It was a different sort of horror than how the others looked at him. This was more familiar to him. He knew exactly what to do with this brand.

"Cadet," he said in a cool voice, "settle down."

"General," Strife said. He sat up, disoriented, and made as if to flatten his hair self-consciously. "General, sir..."

"Get away from him."

Tifa Lockheart was glaring at him again, running her finger over the armor under her sleeve, where she kept materia. Sephiroth shrugged coolly. Perhaps she could handle the situation at this point, and if not, then it would be her problem. He backed off and stood up.

Strife glanced at Tifa, then back to Sephiroth. He shut his eyes and jerked back, and Sephiroth could clearly see him trying to flip the page from the past to the present. Another look to Tifa, and another involuntary twitch.

"Tifa?" he asked. _Twitch_. "Tifa?"

"Sleep," she answered, and hit him with mastered status materia. Strife went back down as if someone had knocked him on the head.

Sephiroth wondered if Strife would have been better served if left awake to deal with these issues, but again, it was not his place to offer suggestions. He would let them figure this out on their own. For that matter, he doubted that Strife would live long enough to deal with them, so maybe it was better if he just slept through the whole thing.

Sephiroth was suddenly aware of Reisei's approaching presence as she made her way down the passageway. She came into the room quietly, and Lockheart's eyes narrowed when she saw her, too.

"Hullo," the old woman said.

"What is it, Rei?" Tifa asked.

"I need to tell you a few things. Mostly I need to tell Sephiroth a few things." She looked warily, almost guiltily at Lockheart. "If I may?"

"Miss Lockheart can stay," Sephiroth said.

Lockheart looked at him with eyes full of defiance. "I don't need your permission," she hissed. Then she cast her eyes downward and looked at Strife, but Sephiroth could see clearly that her looking away was a stand-down. She was still afraid of him.

"Thanks," the old woman said, and she sat down on the floor. She looked at Reeve.

Sephiroth shrugged. "He can stay, too."

Reisei nodded. She wanted to speak, but she seemed unsure. The look of uncertainty was pathetic and strangely sad on her wrinkled face.

"Go on," Sephiroth said, and it came out sounding like an order, which he hadn't meant.

Reisei took a breath. "Sephiroth, do you know why your hair is white?"

Sephiroth raised an eyebrow in surprise. He recalled their last conversation, and how she had distracted him and thrown him off his train of thought by interrupting him, and he vowed to himself that he wouldn't allow her to do it again. Her way of talking in riddles and questions was annoying.

"It's been that way since I was a child," he said. "Because of the JenovaOh. I see."

Reisei smiled wistfully. "In your first body."

"Yes, I am aware of that." His voice sounded clipped and chilly, but he'd meant for it to that time.

"This time, it's white for the same reason that I have mostly white hair. It's aging." She cast her eyes downward. "You're aging. Just like me."

At that moment, Sephiroth wished with everything in him that Lockheart and Reeve had gone elsewhere. He was completely at a loss, and it annoyed him to no end that there were people there to witness it.

"I see," he said. "I...Well, I suppose I have no idea how old I am. Or rather, how old this body is. My memories are what they were when I was twenty five."

"Your chronological age doesn't matter," Reisei said. "You were dead and in the Lifestream for a long time. Your body is just trying to catch up with that."

He heard Tifa Lockheart's quick intake of breath, as if something had suddenly dawned on her. He glanced at her. Her eyes were wide as she stared at him, but she quickly looked away.

"Go on," Sephiroth said to Reisei.

"This is what's happening to me," she said. "I...I guess I don't know who or what I am. Tifa knows all about this. I have some memories from...I have some of someone else's memories, but different DNA. I was in the Lifestream, too, and I came back in this body. I don't even know how long ago, just that when I came to Cloud and Tifa and everyone, I was...or I mean, I _looked_ a lot younger. But as for meI mean, as for where I amI mostly remember the Lifestream. Chronologically, that's where I am. So, since your body believes everything you tell it..."

"It's speeding up to catch up with you," Sephiroth finished.

He wondered how much longer he had. A moment after, he realized that he wasn't terribly concerned. But, he supposed, it would be good to be useful and finish this important task, and perhaps rid the world of Jenova. He guessed he owed it to the Planet. He was indebted to Cloud Strife, as well, but it might be better to just put him out of his misery. He wondered if he would be able to give Strife a choice. It could also be that Jenova would kill Strife first and solve Sephiroth's quandary. He would have to wait and see.

"Hmm," he said.

"Mm," Reisei agreed. "I just wanted to let you know."


	15. chapter fifteen

_I once said of the upcoming chapters, "Cloud/Jenova, ewww!" I was mostly kidding about Cloud/Jenova, I really don't pair them up (though I think it could be interesting.) Really it's just a series of suggestive gestures. (Hey, even Jenova doesn't have the right to touch you in the bathing suit area. ;) ) Feh, ignore me. Anyway, I decided to put that one section in this update instead of the next. It does continue from there (DEEEEEP Cloud Angst!) but that section is really long, so I'll leave it for the next time.._

_And I'm sorry, but I refuse to write the word "Confu." _

_Sheez, how much does Fangirl Author luuuurve REEVE! ;D_

_

* * *

_

**ShinRa**

Scarlet was surrounded on all sides by four men. One had a camera, one was asking her questions, and two more were taking notes. They all looked beaten and bloody, as if they had been in the city when the blasts had gone off. One of them was missing some teeth.

"I think one of the questions on everyone's lips right now," said the question-man, "is, 'Where's Reeve Skye?' Do you have any ideas?"

She tossed her grimy, blond hair out of her eyes and shook her head. "I have no idea where he is, but I can confirm that he is alive and..."

"Is it possible that he's been injured?" the reporter asked. He had to raise his voice over the growing sound of an approaching airship.

"It's not likely. I've been in touch with Reeve and he sounded fine, but unfortunately he didn't tell me much." She looked down to the ground. Her eyes were tired, and her hand shook as she tucked another stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I...It's just that, I had so much faith in Reeve Skye." She looked up again, bravely, into the camera. "I would hate to think that my faith in him - _Midgar's_ faith in him - had been in vain."

"You're from ShinRa," the reporter said. "Can you tell us what you know about the ShinRa employees you accused of doing this horrible, terrible thing?"

"First I want to make it clear that the senior President ShinRa was a greedy coward, and that some of us, myself included, were trying to change the company from the inside when he was still alive. When President ShinRa was killed by terrorists, his son Rufus took over, as I'm sure you're aware. Rufus ShinRa was the kind of leader I think we were looking for. It's a terrible shame that he didn't live to carry out his work. _That_ is the ShinRa that I and a few others were striving to maintain. These terrorists who did this..."

"You called them the Turks, Miss Scarlet, what can you tell us about them?"

"They worked for old man ShinRa, Rufus's father. Though it was never proven, they were responsible for the destruction of the original Sector Seven."

"Do you have any idea of what their motives might have been this time? Why would they choose to act now, and does it have to do with the sightings of these many strange... strange people walking around?" The reporter now had to shout over the sound of an airship.

"Ah, those..." She cast her eyes around, as if afraid she would see one lurking around the next corner. "I believe those to be clones. I have some evidence that there was a cloning facility somewhere in the vicinity which had been operating in secret for many, many years, and it's possible that there was some damage...that whatever security they had..."

Her voice had finally been drowned out by the airship, which was finally visible through the low, dirty clouds. The cameraman had turned away from the interview and had aimed his camera to the sky. The reporter who had been asking her questions, as well as the two other men in his crew, followed his line of vision.

"Folks watching at home, in other parts of the world," he shouted, "we are reporting live from NeoMidgar where, three days ago, what seems to have been several bombs went off, causing panic and destruction and fatalities as well. There's an airship approaching now and..."

"Holy shit, that's the Tempest!" the cameraman shouted.

"That's the..." The reporter squinted into the sky. "You're right. Make sure you get this! Folks at home, we believe this to be the Tempest coming into Midgar. For those of you who don't know, the Tempest is Reeve Skye's airship, and it could be that he's on it, ready to offer some kind of leadership in this chaos."

Scarlet sneered off camera. Leave it to Reeve to ruin her moment.

The airship - and Scarlet was dismayed to note that it was, indeed, the Tempest - touched down in an empty lot adjacent to the street she and the small film crew were on. The wind from its landing further disheveled her. Reeve, whether he was on his airship or not, was determined to thwart her in every way.

"We're waiting to see who steps out of this airship," the reporter said, still shouting in excitement although the engines were dying down now. "It's Reeve Skye's airship, but after talking to his ex-associate, we're led to believe it could be anyone in there. No one knows where Reeve Skye is and... The hatch is opening, are you getting this?" he said to the cameraman in a lower voice.

The cameraman answered with a nod and kept his camera turned to the ship.

The steps lowered and, just as surely as Scarlet was standing on the cracked ground, there was Reeve in all his flustered glory. He was having words with someone who was behind him, and she could see him gesturing for the other person to wait on the ship for a moment. She could almost hear him: "Let me handle it, just let me handle it for now, I'll tell you when to come out..." God, he could be so condescending!

"Folks, I think this is...Yes! It is Reeve Skye, finally here in NeoMidgar, and now we can perhaps get the real story on what happened here!" the reporter said.

With that, he and the crew took off jogging in the direction of the airship.

Scarlet couldn't decide if it would be better to stick around to see what he would say, or to move out in case he saw her and asked her anything too leading. Reeve would never accuse her outright on live television. He was too cautious for that.

In the end, she decided that it would look worse if she suddenly disappeared, so she followed the reporter and cameraman, watching Reeve carefully, seeing what viewers all over the world might see.

To add to her chagrin, Reeve was indeed injured, or at least he looked to have been. This would look terrible for her. She'd so wanted everyone to think that he had just been neglectful. But here he was, stepping wearily to the ground, holding a bloody, torn shirt closed, and looking pale, resolute, and, god damn him, heroic. She hated him then more than she'd ever hated Cloud Strife.

Reeve finally took note of the reporter and his small crew; Scarlet saw his expression become stern, panicked.

"Evacuate!" he shouted. "Evacuate, evacuate!" Waving his arms in the air like a monkey hopped up on caffeine.

"Reeve Skye," the reporter said, ignoring Reeve's order to leave the city at once. "A few questions for you, if you have a moment..."

"No! Danger, evacuate! ...Scarlet!" His voice cracked when he saw her coming up behind the crew.

"Reeve," she said.

"Reeve," the reporter said over her voice, as his crew crowded around the man just as they'd crowded Scarlet earlier. "Can you tell us anything about this?"

"Have you declared a state of emergency?" another asked.

"Have you been injured?" the cameraman took it upon himself to ask. "Did it happen here?"

"Ah..."

Clearly, Reeve was now at a loss. Scarlet waited, watching him, hoping that her presence would unnerve him enough to make him screw up. Reeve glanced at her, then back to the reporters. He seemed to have come to a decision about something.

"Yes, I was here when the blasts went off, I was injured in the blasts, but I'm fine now. I went to get help for Midgar. I ordered the evacuation from a hospital and..."

"How severe were your injuries?" the reporter asked.

Off camera, Scarlet groaned.

Reeve lifted his shirt briefly and showed a freshly healed, but still jagged mark just about the size of her fist. It looked fittingly gruesome. The film crew all gasped.

"I'm fine," he said. "I ordered this evacuation for a reason. NeoMidgar is a dangerous place, and there are reports of looting, terrorism and, more importantly, Mako poisoning, so I have to ask you to..."

"There are emergency vehicles waiting to take people out of the city," the reporter went on. "Did you ask for them?"

"My secretary did while I was laid up. My secretary has since gone missing and I have reason to believe that he's injured or perhaps worse. I have a recording of the conversation we were having when he was attacked by someone here." Reeve eyed Scarlet over the cameraman's shoulder. "I also have a great deal of information on the people who set this disaster up. One of the prime suspects is a man named Bradburn; and I also have reason to believe that the people he works for were involved in the attack of my secretary. This is no small conspiracy," he said. "This whole thing is very, very..._broad_."

He winked at Scarlet. This was probably her one chance to leave, although she hated for him to see her slinking away like that.

The crew all started to ask him questions at the same time. Scarlet looked back over her shoulder and saw him hold his hands up. "I can't answer any more questions right now," he said. "I have to order you to evacuate the city. Shelters are being set up and rescue crews are doing what they can to help those who can't get out on their own. I'll have more for you next time."

The reporters were all leaving, and Scarlet now knew it was best for her to get away while the getting was good. She didn't know who else was on the Tempest, but she was certain that she didn't want to run into them. She would be badly outnumbered, and more than that, they would act so damned righteous. She didn't think she could handle all the sainthood and martyrdom they would be waving around.

She decided to go back to her the little warehouse where she was keeping Fletcher. Scarlet was determined that she would deal with Reeve and only Reeve.

* * *

**Avalanche**

"That was cool," Reno said. He had just come out of the Tempest, and stood behind Reeve. "That was really cool, did you see her face? Damn!"

But Reeve was too concerned with what he had just seen to give Reno much of his attention just then. Scarlet's presence had been surprising and significant, yes, and he suspected that Fletcher was dead, and probably by her hand, at that.

But that cameraman had been missing his front teeth.

"Oh Reeve, that was so...so cool of you," Reno droned quietly in the background.

And the cameraman's gums had still been bleeding. The inside of his mouth had been red, and blood had run out of his mouth when he'd asked Reeve the last question. He seemed to have no idea that his teeth were gone, either. He didn't seem to be in any pain from it.

"Reeve, you... Reeve...you..."

The reporter, the man who had been asking questions... Hadn't he had a bruise on his forehead? Hadn't that been the first thing that Reeve had noticed?

Well, it stood to reason, he supposed. Maybe they had been in NeoMidgar when the bombs had been going off. Hadn't he himself shown up here looking like he'd done the horizontal tango with Death?

But he had acknowledged it.

"Reeve...I'm..."

Something about those men, the way they were about their injuries, seemed so absent. Reeve would have sworn that they didn't know they were injured. The way the blood had come out of that man's mouth when he spoke...it had dribbled down his chin and onto his shirt, and he hadn't wiped it away. That wasn't right.

A sudden, tightly-drawn breath behind him made his stomach clench with apprehension. Before he could turn around, there was a thud, and then Elena's voice: "Oh, shit! Reno!"

Reeve turned around to see Elena jump down from the last of the stairs, and next he saw what she was running to.

Reno was on the ground, curled up on his side. He looked as if something was trying to turn him inside out, was Reeve's first impression of it. Rude was next off the Tempest, and he leapt off the last few stairs, running to Reno and getting there just before Reeve did.

At first, Reeve thought that Reno was trying to tear at his clothes, but on closer inspection, it looked more like he was tearing at his skin. All the while he seemed to be drawing into himself in violent spasms. Under strands of obnoxiously red hair, his skin was shockingly white. Reeve couldn't remember the last time he had seen anything in such obvious pain.

Rude was trying to grab one of Reno's hands, because he seemed to have also guessed that Reno was trying to rip his own skin off. Common knowledge told him not to hold down a seizuring person, but this clearly wasn't a seizure, at least not one that he'd ever heard of. He felt certain that Reno was trying to hurt himself. Rude and Elena seemed to think the same thing, and were fighting years of first aid training, trying to hold him back without holding him down.

Reeve had a brief mental image of the cameraman with his teeth knocked out.

"What the hell!"

Reeve looked up to see Tifa standing in the hatch of the Tempest. She looked confused, but detached; more annoyed than worried.

_Confused... Confused! Holy shit!_

Reeve tried to form the words to shout to Tifa, but Elena beat him to it.

"Status materia!" Elena said to Tifa.

Tifa made her way down the steps and approached carefully. She peered over Rude's shoulder, keeping her distance, and shied back when Reno suddenly turned on his back. His eyes were open, but only the whites were showing.

"Oh, crap," Tifa said softly. "Well... Esuna!"

As soon as she hit Reno with the spell, he went limp. His eyes closed, and small rivulets of blood ran from his mouth, and somewhere on his scalp, too. He must have fallen hard, Reeve guessed.

Rude busied himself nervously checking Reno's vitals. Elena watched him do this for a moment, then she looked up at Tifa.

"Um...thanks," she muttered.

Tifa shrugged. She seemed to want to look away carelessly, but she couldn't. She was too curious. Clearly, she could get no answers from any of the Turks, and certainly not from Reno, so she turned her eyes to Reeve instead.

Reeve held up his hand to indicate: "Give me a moment, I'm thinking," without having to form the words.

The memory of it hit him in the head like a brick...or rather, the other way around. He suddenly remembered coming here to NeoMidgar on that terrible night, before any of this had happened. He had surprised himself by repeatedly hitting his head against the brick wall.

The reporter had a similar injury on his head. And the cameraman... All in NeoMidgar. Reno had been living here.

"It's in the air," he said under his breath.

"What is?" Tifa asked.

Tifa had no way of knowing anything that had happened in NeoMidgar. She hadn't seen Tseng attacking his allies in the hotel room, so status Confusion wasn't on her mind. And she hadn't seen Reno clawing at himself as if he were trying to rip his skin to shreds. There was no reason for her to know what he meant.

But Elena was looking at Reeve as if she'd just had the same revelation.

"The city is poisoned," she whispered. Then, a more dire revelation: "Tseng."

Immediately after she'd said his name, they heard the sounds of violent struggle from the hatch of the airship, and this time it was indeed Tseng, but he wasn't alone. Sephiroth was behind him. In fact, Sephiroth seemed to be struggling with him...struggling against him? Reeve couldn't tell. Sephiroth had an arm around Tseng's waist and was wrenching a sword out of his hands.

Reeve had to stop thinking, close his eyes, and start over. Tseng had been brandishing the Masamune.

Tifa had screamed. How she must have loathed that blade, Reeve thought. God help her, it had torn up her mind just as easily as it had torn up her body.

Reeve walked over to Tifa and gently put his hands on her shoulders. "Esuna, Tifa," he whispered. "Use it on Tseng."

She looked at him over her shoulder for a moment. Then she quickly nodded, and turned back around to hit Tseng with the spell. Tseng slumped against Sephiroth, who negligently held him up with one arm while taking the Masamune with his free hand. He looked composed and disgusted. Rude came halfway up the stairs to the hatch and took Tseng from Sephiroth, placing him gently on the ground.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Reeve sighed. He gave Tifa an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder before walking away from her. He knew how draining it was to be strong all the time, and this next task, whatever it was, was going to be difficult on everyone. He looked the small group over and wondered if all of them would live through the next phase.

"Look," he finally said. "We can't win like this."

Sephiroth nodded shortly.

"When I was with Avalanche, we had a leader, and a system. The system was organized and very strong. It wasn't based on trust all the time, but there had to be a degree of it or we wouldn't function. The only one of us aside from Aerith who was ever willing to risk a little trust was Cloud. No, he wasn't always right and yes, he got burned for it, but somewhere along the line he managed to pull us all together before the end. Or rather, what could have been the end. We had to give him the same degree of trust, and maybe more, even though his behavior then was, uhh, questionable."

Tifa opened her mouth to speak, but Reeve held up his hand.

"Cloud will tell you the same thing, Tifa," he said. "My point is that we're going to have to manage that again.

"I'm thinking, from what I've seen, that the air in the city is contaminated with some kind of status poison, which is why I've seen people who seem to be attacking their allies or themselves. Reno was living here, he's probably got it all through his system. Tseng...I guess, like Elena thinks, Scarlet was hitting him with status materia for many years. That could be why they're getting the worst of it. But that doesn't mean that the rest of us are totally safe from it, so we're going to need, what, peace rings? Ribbons? Some kind of protection against this kind of status, or at least loads of Heal materia. But ribbons would be best, since they guard against all status effects."

Tifa chewed on her nail for a moment. "Cloud and I have ribbons," she said. "Cloud can't use his because sometimes I have to...you know. They prevent Sleep, too. They're so rare, though. There are a few things on the Highwind, too."

"I have a ribbon," Elena said. "Rude has the peace ring."

"Maybe we should give them to Reno and Tseng," Rude offered.

"No," Elena said, "because then we'd be useless, and it might not work on them anyway if we did. Someone's got to stay alert."

Reeve nodded. Thank god they were all willing to listen to reason.

"We'll do what we can here, lie low, and wait for the Highwind. Meantime, someone should wake Cloud."

"I'll go," Tifa said.

Sephiroth, Reeve noted, stepped away from the hatch before Tifa even took a step towards him. He wondered if anyone else noticed, but to him it seemed like Sephiroth just didn't want to wait to be asked. He was, however, leaning casually on the hilt of the Masamune. It looked so natural to him, no one else seemed to notice. He was sure that Tifa had noticed, though.

When Tifa had gone back into the Tempest to wake Cloud, Reeve took a look around at the wasted crew. He had to admit, the only one who looked capable of accomplishing anything just then was Sephiroth. Reeve had just finished lecturing the others on trust and teamwork, but looking at Sephiroth, he realized that he might not be capable of it himself. Trusting Sephiroth seemed unnatural, like opening your shirt for the firing squad to give them better aim.

Well, that was the way it was, and there didn't seem to be anything Reeve could do about it. From what he understood, Jenova might be showing herself sometime soon, and if that was the case, they were all probably screwed anyway. He had meant to go search for Scarlet and hopefully find out what had become of his secretary, but apparently even that was going to have to wait.

"If anything should happen, we're down two fighters," Reeve said, indicating Reno and Tseng. "Three really, since one of us has to stay and watch them."

"That'll be you," Elena said.

Reeve blinked in surprise. "I didn't come to sit it out again."

"Maybe not, but you're going to have to."

"Elena, I can fight, I'm not going to do this through a robot cat from a comfortable office this time!"

She smiled at him. "Reeve, I know you're strong, but you know I'm stronger. Plus, you're hurt."

"That doesn't mean..."

"It makes sense," she said. "It makes sense for you see to Reno and Tseng and watch our backs. Put your strongest fighters in the front line, if anything happens. Right?"

Reeve gritted his teeth and decided not to answer. He knew Elena was being practical, and part of him knew that she was right. But another, more basic part of him didn't want to let this small lady with the doll's face go out and fight. That feeling was ridiculous and he knew it, so he buried it as far as he could and finally nodded.

Everyone was silent for a moment and then Rude spoke up. "So, we're still down three good fighters..."

"Four," said Tifa from where she now stood on the top step to the Tempest. Reeve looked up to see that she was pale, and clutching the guardrail so tightly that her knuckles were white. After a moment, Reisei stood quietly behind her. Reisei was shaking, and looking older and frailer than ever.

Reeve felt his heart sink. He wouldn't have considered Reisei a fighter, but he had so hoped that she was the one Tifa was talking about. "Shit," he muttered.

Everyone had probably guessed it, and Tifa probably didn't need to say it, but she said it anyway: "Cloud's gone."

* * *

**Cloud Strife and Jenova**

_"There's a devil waiting outside your door_

_It is bucking and braying and pawing at the floor_

_And he's howling with pain and crawling up the walls_

_There's a devil waiting outside your door_

_He's weak with evil and broken by the world_

_He's shouting your name and he's asking for more_

_There's a devil waiting outside your door."_

_Nick Cave - Loverman_

_

* * *

_

Cloud pulled away from the lips that had practically chewed his own off and caught his breath. He eyed the creature warily as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You're not Aerith," he hissed. "Aerith would know better."

She giggled her high pitched laugh and looked at him with sparkling, hooded eyes. "I always wanted to do that," she said.

Their surroundings changed again. They had just been inside of Reeve's airship, and now they were outdoors in Aerith's garden in Midgar. Cloud found himself sitting at a small table in the sun. There was a cup of tea in front of him, and Aerith was across from him, smiling primly, wearing the red dress she had worn on the rescue mission to Don Corneo's all those many years ago.

Cloud narrowed his eyes in a way that he knew made him look threatening, and sometimes downright frightful. "What do you want, Jenova?"

She giggled again with Aerith's girlish laugh. "What do _you_ want, Cloud Strife?"

"For you to fuck off and die. Though I wouldn't mind hearing you scream like a bitch for a few hours first."

She smiled wider. "Would you kill me yourself? Would it give you pleasure? How would you do it? Think about it before you answer."

Cloud thought about it. He imagined all manner of painful things, but found he somehow couldn't find the images to direct them at her. He felt his blood rushing through his head, making his eyes throb. His entire body felt hot with rage, and his eyes wanted to water, but he refused to let them, because the creature across from him might mistake it for tears.

"I'll help you," she said. "I'll help you figure out how you would most like to kill me. You just can't imagine it because you don't know what I truly look like. You only have images of beasts and tentacles and a metal-plated goddess. My power is to change forms, but let's use our real forms right now, both of us."

The vision of Aerith faded around the edges. The insides twisted and morphed, so that for a moment she looked two dimensional, and Cloud had the confusing feeling that he was looking at a painting with the colors melting through the middle. It hurt his eyes, so he looked away.

"This is me," she said.

Cloud looked up hesitantly.

The garden and the table were gone, and Cloud was found himself in the basement of the ShinRa mansion in Nibelheim, standing opposite a creature that seemed at first to be made of smooth, immovable stone. It looked like an unfinished sculpture, what might be a human shape with more work and chiseling. The lines and proportions were there, but it was devoid of features. There was a head, but no eyes, nose, or mouth. There were shoulders, long arms that were disproportionately thin, and what appeared to be a narrow waist above two sexless legs. Yet he was certain that what he was looking at was female.

A small oval the size of his hand burned slightly brighter and throbbed in her center. He could barely make it out, but he guessed wildly that it was her heart... Her battery, he wanted to say, since he couldn't bring himself to think of it in human terms.

Cloud watched, rapt and still, as she raised one frail looking, white arm. From the stump at the end of it, a long, flexible appendage grew to a point. The surface - what must have been her skin - now seemed more like liquid than rock, although it still had the luster of smooth stone. Her arm seemed to grow longer as she reached for him, and more thin appendages grew from it, so that the end now resembled a long-fingered hand.

She drew her fingers down Cloud's cheek, toyed with his hair, touched his neck. She felt like chilled rubber.

Cloud stumbled back, holding his hand over his mouth and trying desperately not to puke or cry or both. Her touch was repulsive. She felt unnatural, like mutations, cancer, something organic and yet completely wrong. And this, Cloud realized, was the thing that was inside of him. The cells that made up this loathsome white mass were in his blood.

"Oh god," Cloud gasped in horror. "God, you're disgusting. You're...you're..."

"Not natural to your Planet, yes," she offered. "And yes, in your blood is exactly where I am. I've multiplied myself so many times there that I'm what's keeping you alive. You didn't know that, did you? Everyday I pass through your veins, your heart, your brain. You were worried that I knew what your consciousness looked like? Your pathetic dreams, your weak, human thoughts? Oh, my failure, I know what your _gray matter_ looks like. I can touch a synapse in your fragile brain, bridge it, and give you an unending link to what you're feeling right now, and you will feel it until you die. I can play your pain receptors all at once, until you lose your reason and go mad. Oh, but Cloud! Since I can also play your delicate little mind-chemicals, you won't have to go mad; you can be lucid until the end! I can cut your optic nerve and blind you, choke your medulla oblongata and suffocate you just as slowly as I please, or run myself through your anterior frontal lobe and turn you into a madman, a billion times more dangerous than you are now. You only _think_ you know madness and suffering. I've taught you nothing."

Cloud went to his knees, as much as he hadn't wanted to, and searched for something inside of himself to keep him from crying in front of her. He thought of Tifa's strength.

"I can hold a mass of your little blood cells in your coronary artery," she went on, "and drop you dead of a heart attack at thirty two years of age. I can multiply the cells of your skin and make them into whatever form catches my imagination, and believe me when I tell you, human, that my imagination is not bound by this piece of rock you call your Planet. Or I can just shut your brain down and blink you forever out of consciousness."

"_So why haven't you?_"Cloud shouted, looking up at her hateful form.

The shape of her head tilted in an almost human attitude of amusement. "Because you are my lifeline," she said. "I can operate your body without your consciousness, but how long do you think your Planet friends would let me use it? As long as they know you still exist in this little shell of yours, I have a home, pathetic though it is."

Cloud looked up at her, stunned by her honesty, and by the blinding whiteness of her. It took him a moment to get his mouth to work. "I hate you," he said.

"I know you do." She faded back into the form or Aerith, which was even more awful to Cloud now that he had seen her true form. "And now you know what I am," she said. "Do you still want to kill me?"

_More than ever,_ Cloud thought, but it saying it seemed small and redundant.

"Then free your rage," she said. "Wouldn't it feel good? Wouldn't you love to let go of those feelings you've been keeping inside for all of these years? To just destroy?"

"You know I would," Cloud said. "But that's what you want me to do. You aren't trying to get me to hurt you; you have nothing to gain from that. You're trying to get me to hurt my friends by confusing me." He stood up to face her. It was hard to look into the eyes of Aerith and see Jenova, but he did. "One of those friends told me something before this dream," he said.

"You think this is an ordinary dream?"

"No, I don't; I know it's the landscape of our shared consciousness. Which means that I still have my share of control over it."

The landscape shifted again, and the ShinRa mansion twisted and faded. It was replaced by the cliffs over Junon. The ocean roared below. Cloud knew that the ocean wasn't as deep, nor the waves as big as they seemed to be now, but often when he dreamed of Junon Harbor, this was the massive, violent sea he saw there. It was very easy for him to access this sense memory, and the scene was very real to him.

"What are you doing?" Jenova asked.

Cloud knew that it was no use trying to hide his plans from her. If he lied, she would read his mind anyway. In fact, it was no use telling her at all. Reisei had seen this coming. She had told Cloud that Jenova would try to get him to use his power against his friends; she had told him that Jenova couldn't be killed while he lived. She had told him to surrender. It was time to be a gentleman and let Jenova in. He turned to run towards the sea.

Cloud reached the cliff and leapt off, wondering what it would be like to die in his mind, wondering what would happen to his body still on the Tempest, and if Tifa or anyone would be there to see. He had no way of warning her that when that body awoke, it would belong to Jenova, and Cloud would be somewhere else. He hoped that Reisei would have gotten a chance to explain it and prepare everyone.

For a moment he felt the rush of salt air on his face, and then he was suddenly gripped around the chest and jerked back onto the cliff. He knew immediately that she had grabbed him, and he almost voiced his revulsion at her touch, but something stopped him. Cloud kneeled on the grainy cliff, Jenova's arm curled around him, his mouth open in dull surprise.

There was no revulsion. There was no pain, no chill of slippery rubber. Her arm around him felt like a woman's arm, warm and firm across his back.

"Don't die, Cloud," she whispered in his ear.

He couldn't see her, but her breath stirred his hair. Something triggered in his mind, and suddenly he recognized the smell of rosemary. It was sweeter than it had ever been.

"Ah," she whispered, trailing her fingers down his back, "senses are wonderful to you humans. Aren't they, Cloud? Aren't they wonderful?"

Long, smooth fingers worked through his hair, and every nerve in his scalp tingled. His insides felt watery and weak, and he felt himself start to fall forward, but she held him up and guided him back until his head rested in her lap. Cloud found himself looking up into stunningly bright eyes in the most beautiful face he had ever seen: Tifa's. Her hair was darker, longer and richer than he remembered. Her skin was warm, even and olive, and oh god, the colors of her were overwhelming. A lock of her scented hair draped over her shoulder and fell onto his cheek, and Cloud hissed his breath in through his teeth.

He knew she must be Jenova, because he could remember what had just happened, but every sense was heightened, and all he knew was pleasure.

"I'm in your blood, Cloud," she said, smiling with Tifa's red lips. "Did I not just tell you that I could control every nerve in your body? That I can play you like the instrument you are?"

She trailed a finger down his chest and Cloud involuntarily arched into her touch.

"Did you think I could only cause pain?"

Gasping and struck dumb, Cloud could only blink in response. He had never in his entire life known senses like this. Everything he had ever felt before seemed base and human. This was Jenova, and he knew it, but it was sublime and it transcended life. Hojo had babbled about something like this once.

"Your years of deprivation have already made you sensitized to touch. If you thought you felt pleasure when I left you alone, only think of what you'll feel if I add to it further." To prove herself, she slipped her hand under the waistband of his pants. "Think of what lies beyond."

There was a cry caught in the back of his throat, but it was too big to come out. She had finally managed to wring tears from him, goddamn her, the spacewhore, but the shame was secondary to the sensation. Even the tears felt good.

"You can keep this gift for a while, Cloud," she said. "You can keep it when you wake up, because I'm not entirely without mercy, am I?" She raked her fingernails lightly across his hip. "Am I, Cloud?"

"No," Cloud said, though he wasn't certain what he was answering.

"So wake up, Cloud."


	16. chapter sixteen

_Cloud wakes up from his dream of (with) Jenova. I guess you could say he wakes up in a mood. ;)_

_

* * *

_

**Cloud Strife**

"Cloud, wake up."

He resisted the urge to say, "Five more minutes, Mom."

His mother, god rest her... Fifteen years dead, maybe more, (time had always had a way of running off while Cloud wasn't looking,) her bright, blond head long since ashes...

Cloud giggled. _He_ was alive, at least. Alive, with every nerve cell awake, and for the first time in years, there was pleasure, even from the air on his skin and in his lungs.

"Cloud, are you okay?"

Aerith's voice. Ten years dead, maybe more, her pink dress probably seaweed-covered rags by now, her skin plucked away by little, glowing fish. Cloud thought that it must not be any fun at all to be dead. In fact, if he were really honest with himself, it must really just about suck to be dead. He thought about all the people he'd known who had died.

"Sucks to be you," he muttered.

"Cloud?"

Her breath stirred his hair. He could smell fear. It wasn't so bad.

What was bad, though, was lying around on the floor of an airship when he could be outside, seeing things, breathing, touching...Hell, maybe even flying, if she let him.

"Umm, Tifa said..."

Cloud was up and behind her before she even thought to finish her sentence. He heard her gasp as he wrapped one arm across her throat, and grabbed her wrist in his free hand. He jerked her arm back and she cried out (the voice was young, but the bones were so old,) so he put his hand over her mouth.

"Keep quiet, Reisei," he said. He took a moment to smell her hair. Not rosemary like Tifa's, but a lighter scent that was still gorgeous. He could waste all his free time smelling her hair, but why, when there was so much more to experience? He eased his hand away from her mouth.

"Cloud, you're hurting me!"

"Reisei, I can safely say that you have never known pain. Be quiet and you may never have to, okay?"

She nodded, clearly afraid that he would break her arm. He didn't want to, though. Not unless she tried to stop him, which she might decide to do. She could cast Sleep on him or some other status. Cloud wondered if it would actually have any effect on him; maybe not, but it was better to be safe, so that he wouldn't have to hurt anyone. Protection against that sort of thing, it was a must before he left.

Cloud was surprised that he was thinking so clearly and planning so carefully even with all the stimuli that was assaulting him. Reisei, Planet love her, was pressed up against him and shaking so hard her bones were nearly rattling. Her soft, white sleeve sent little sparks through his hand when he reached beneath the fabric. The skin of her arm was dry and deeply lined.

"Cloud, what are you...?"

"Shh," he told her. He knew what he was doing, but it was fun to let her wonder for a moment, because the fear was interesting and the shaking was good.

Finally, he found what he was looking for: a small, starchy and oddly metallic little piece of material under her sleeve. The ribbon he had never been allowed to use under Tifa's reign, which would prevent anyone from casting any kind of status on him.

"Thank you, Rei," Cloud said, as he took it from her. He felt its rough surface. It was lovely.

"Oh, Cloud."

"Don't 'Oh Cloud' me, young lady. I'm going out for a while. For once, for fucking _once_ I am going out and I'm going to do what I want without anyone stopping me. I can feel things, Reisei. Do you understand?"

She took a shaky breath. When she spoke, her voice was what others might think of as wise and sad. Cloud finally understood how patronizing it was. "I understand that Jenova is controlling you."

Cloud gave her a shake, delighted by her little squeal of fear. "Jenova isn't controlling me, that's...that's the deal, Rei. She let me go."

"No, Cloud, she still has you, only she's not controlling you with pain anymore. I told you to step aside, Cloud."

"You told me to die."

"You wouldn't have died! You still don't have to! There's an answer, Cloud, something that will help you."

"You're always saying that," Cloud hissed in her ear, "and nothing ever has."

"But this time... An answer from the Pla..."

"That's enough out of you, little miss. Run along." He shoved her, and she fell to the floor in a heap of arthritic bones.

If Reisei got it together enough to look up, Cloud didn't see it. He was gone before she turned her head.

The cockpit of the Tempest was empty. Cloud looked around and took quick inventory. He could see them all outside through the window, but he knew they couldn't see him. A few Turks were down, Reeve was looking inspired and stern, and Tifa - poor Tifa! - was looking stressed as she chewed on her nails. Sephiroth was leaning on the hilt of his sword like the arrogant bastard that he was. Cloud looked at the Masamune. The brightness of it made his eyes water, and there was just a hint of pain as he looked at it; the first pain since his dream. He looked away from that hateful, loathsome blade.

Sephiroth had a weapon. Cloud needed one too, because one never knew when people were going to act up. One never knew when people would try to take away his liberty.

Suddenly Tifa turned away and started walking towards the airship. She was no frail, old lady. Tifa was formidable, and Cloud would hate to have to hurt her, because she deserved better. It was time to get the hell away.

The Turks were down, and apparently they had left the Tempest in a hurry, because there on the floor, right next to the seat, was Reno's nightstick. Cloud wasn't sure exactly how it worked, but he was sure he could figure it out. It would have to do. He made his way toward the door of the cockpit and slipped out. He had halfway expected to see Reisei waiting there for him, but she wasn't. She had probably gone to get Tifa, knowing that she couldn't do anything by herself. That gave Cloud a clear exit through the back hatch.

Grinning, he flicked the nightstick on. It whirred to life, and then made a high-pitched, squawking sound.

"Shh!" Cloud told it as he switched it back off.

For a moment, it had charged the air around him, making the hairs on his arms stand up. He tingled all over. He wanted to turn it on again later, but for now...

"Cloud?" Tifa's voice came from the side hatch.

"Tifa!" Reisei answered in a teary, panicked voice.

Time to go.

Cloud ran silently down the corridor, through the room where he'd (_had the dream_) been sleeping, past the bathroom, and towards the back exit.

"Reisei, what happened?" Tifa asked from the front of the Tempest. "Where's Cloud?"

"Cloud's gone," he whispered along with Reisei.

He eased the latch and pushed the door open. It creaked. It sounded loud to him, but he realized that his hearing had also been enhanced, so it was unlikely that Tifa had heard it, and nigh on impossible that Reisei had.

"What?"

"Tifa, it's not Cloud... I mean it is, it _is_ Cloud, he's himself; Jenova is making him do things but he's doing them of his own free will."

"What are you talking about?" There was a pause. "What happened to your wrist?"

Another pause, and Cloud knew that Tifa was staring at the bruises on Reisei's wrist, not yet willing to believe that he had put them there. As if _bruising_ were any kind of big deal. Oh, terrible, terrible Cloud, for leaving a bruise on someone! They had no idea what it felt like to have hot needles in every pore of your body, no idea what it felt like to eat food and taste dirt, to drink water and taste blood and still thirst, and certainly they had no idea what it was like to finally be free of that. They were selfish for wanting to hold him back. They lacked perspective.

They were blessed in that way and Cloud was glad for them, but only to a point. If (_when_) they tried to stop him, they would gain perspective very quickly, and they would have only themselves to blame.

"He went out the back," Tifa said, and immediately after, he heard her quick footsteps as she came down the corridor.

Cloud stepped out, hooked his hand on the ridge above the outside of the door, and pulled himself up. He felt lighter than he'd ever felt, and he easily swung his legs up to the side of the airship and gained his balance.

He was standing upright, looking straight ahead, and he could see the sky. It occurred to him that he was standing on the side of the airship. Apparently even gravity was his friend today. He took a tentative step, made contact, and didn't fall off.

It felt familiar. He wondered why he could remember walking up a vertical plane before.

In the end it didn't matter. The air smelled of metal, Mako, fire, and fear. Underneath it all were more human scents. They called to him. He was _entitled_ to this, and no one seemed to realize that. He took a few more steps, and he was standing on top of the airship when Tifa finally got to the door. She looked out the back, but she was looking in the wrong direction. Looking for footprints, probably. Too bad for her that it was concrete, or she would have seen right away that he had never touched the ground.

He heard her sob once, briefly, and then stop. She would be strong again. Poor Tifa.

Cloud crouched down on top of the airship, knowing that he had enough time to leave while she went to tell the others that he was gone. While they all sat around and discussed it, (and he knew that might take a while,) he could get himself long gone.

Tifa, of course, would follow him. That might be to the good. He needed some time alone with her. He heard her close the door again. As he thought of her walking down the corridor, with her thick, rosemary scented hair swaying down her smooth back, Cloud smiled.

* * *

**Tifa and Elena**

Sephiroth had the unbelievable nerve to be staring at her like an annoyed parent stares at his child before throwing his hands in the air and relenting. She wanted to rip his face to shreds. She didn't want to fight with him, or even punch him or bludgeon him; she just wanted to scratch his face off with her nails.

"It's not wise for you to go after him alone, Miss Lockheart, or for anyone to. I don't need to remind everyone that those people under Jenova's influence may attack their allies. Nor do I _like_ to remind everyone, for that matter."

"You're not coming with me," Tifa said, disgusted with herself for sounding so shaky.

He bowed his head again, but not without the same patronizing look he had been giving her since she said she was going after Cloud.

"Tifa," Reeve said. He sounded hesitant, and by god, Tifa was sick of everyone tiptoeing around her as if she were some kind of unreasonable, weak child.

"What?"

"I still don't think you should go alone," Reeve said.

"For Pete's sake," Tifa huffed. "It's _Cloud,_ Reeve. Cloud! As if I haven't been with him all these years!"

"Yeah, but it's not _just_ Cloud," Reeve said. "What if all of a sudden Jenova makes her grand entrance, Tifa, and it's just you? Huh? Jesus, I'm not asking you to take Sephiroth with you, I'm just saying not to go alone! At least let me go with you."

"No," Tifa said.

"No!" Elena said at the same time.

Tifa and Elena glanced at each other.

"Reeve," Elena said, "we already decided this. You're not going on the front line, okay?"

Tifa had thought she couldn't possibly be more annoyed with these people, but seeing Elena give orders like a field commander - like _her_ field commander - was too much. "Reeve," she said, "I need you to stay back and guard the Turks, in case they try something."

"Tifa, get over it," Reeve said.

She blinked, feeling very much as if he had had slapped her. Had Reeve just not only undermined her in front of the Turks, but taken their side? It was too much to bear, and she felt her hand clench at her side. "What?" she said.

"The Turks are the least of our threats," Reeve said. "And you know it."

"Thanks, Reeve," Elena said, "but I prefer to think that we're not a threat at all. We did come along to help."

"Jesus Christ," Reeve muttered, finally exasperated.

"I don't need your help, first of all," Tifa said, "and second of all, how dare you..." She was stopped by Reeve putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Tifa, please," he said. He let his forehead drop to rest against hers. She was startled at this odd display of intimacy, and she knew it probably looked inappropriate, but she sensed that he didn't mean anything by it other than the fact that he was exhausted and appealing to her. Of anything he could have done, this surprised her to attention. "Tifa, we're at war now. It's not, at this moment, a war against ShinRa, or the Turks, or even, god help me, against Sephiroth."

She opened her mouth to speak - wildly from her emotions, she knew, but couldn't help it.

"And no," Reeve said, before she could say it, "not against Cloud, either." He turned away, tiredly rubbing the back of his head, and addressed everyone again. "It's like this: for right now, it's just us. If Barret or Nanaki or Cid were here, one or two of them could go with Tifa to find Cloud. I think waiting for him to just come back is out of the question, am I right?"

Tifa nodded numbly, aware of what he was getting at, but not yet ready to consider it.

"So we have to split into teams; that's what Cloud would do. Well, obviously I'm not permitted to leave." He cast a wry glance at Elena, who gave him a weak smile in return. "I don't think Rei is in any good condition to go along. Tifa, that leaves Elena or Rude."

"Oh, Jesus," Tifa said.

Elena stood up from where she had been kneeling by Reno. "Okay, look," she said. "Miss Lockheart, I don't know what it is you think we're going to do to you, but the idea that any of us are going to hurt you is ridiculous. You must know that. We don't work for Scarlet; you must be clever enough to realize that. And we sure as hell don't work for Jenova."

"Yeah, and what about Cloud?" Tifa said. "Say we go out and find him. What are you going to do? You can't tell me you're going to go and give him a big hug, Elena. How do I know you're not going to try something?"

"He'd swat me down like a fly and you know it. What, you think Cloud can't defend himself against big, tough Elena?"

Sephiroth cleared his throat. Tifa surprised herself by turning to him and snapping, "What!"

He shrugged. "Jenova's helping him. He's probably moving quickly. How far do you think he's gotten while you are all sniping at each other about the past?"

"You have a hell of a nerve," Tifa said. "How dare you talk about Cloud, and how dare you even bring up the past?"

"Miss Lockheart, what you think of me has nothing to do with it. If you don't want to go find Cloud, I'm willing to go."

Tifa was at a loss. Suddenly she felt everyone watching her and waiting for her decision. She realized then, that although everyone seemed to have a suggestion, no one was making the decision for her. They were all waiting for her word to move.

And Cloud was getting farther away.

If in the past she had ever imagined herself having to work with one of the Turks, in theory, she might have chosen Rude. Now that she was faced with the situation, she found his distance disconcerting.

"Elena, do you have your weapon?" she asked.

"No, Ma'am, I do not. You relieved me of it back at Cosmo Canyon."

"Right. It's on the airship, then."

"I have another gun on the Tempest, if you want one," Reeve said. "And just a bit of ice materia."

"Ice doesn't affect Cloud," Tifa said, and then she immediately covered her mouth with both hands, as if to blank out what she had just said.

She saw Reeve's look of dismay, and a kind of pity for her that knotted her stomach.

"Tifa," he said, "it's not really Cloud."

"But that's the problem," Reisei said from below the hatch. Tifa had forgotten that she'd even been standing there. "It is Cloud right now."

Before anyone could answer that, Tifa decided that it was better to head out and to actually do something than it was to stand around with everyone watching her, waiting for her words, and worrying. She could feel the weight of their worries and she wondered if this is what Cloud sometimes felt.

"Reeve," she said, "please go and get Elena's gun off the Highwind. And a PHS, if you have one."

* * *

The air was so dusty that the only indication that it was late afternoon was the grey sky going a darker grey. Soon it would be dusk, and Tifa didn't even know where to begin. She knew that Cloud had gone out the back hatch of the Tempest. But she also knew that that didn't mean he had kept going in the same direction.

"We have no footprints to follow," Elena said.

"Yeah, I realize that," Tifa snapped.

Elena gave her an impatient look. "So we'll have to try to follow something else. You know Cloud better than anyone. He spent some time in Midgar; where might he want to go?"

"Sector Five...Sector Seven maybe."

"Well, they're both in the same direction. Let's just walk and see what we see."

Tifa nodded, deciding not to answer. She couldn't figure out where Cloud might go if he were...under duress, she supposed. Sector Five was where Aerith had lived, where the church was. Would he go there for comfort? Or would he go to where Tifa's Seventh Heaven bar used to be?

Not that it mattered. It was all in the past, and the only reason it was worth thinking about now was because she needed to find Cloud.

"Miss Lockheart, may I ask you a question?"

"Uhh, sure."

"The woman who travels with you...Reisei?"

Tifa felt her stomach lurch with warning; she knew she must not give out too much information. "Yeah?"

"Is she an Ancient?"

Tifa shrugged and tried to seem casual. "Something like that, I guess."

Elena accepted this dismissal, but she was still curious. "She looks familiar." A pause during which Tifa knew what was coming next. "She reminds me of Aerith."

"Don't talk about her after what you guys put her through."

Elena didn't answer, and Tifa almost wished she had. She would prefer an arguement to this quiet deference. They walked on in silence for a few minutes more. Out of the corner of her eye, Tifa could see Elena scanning the ground around her for footprints in the dust, and the crumbling city walls for clues. When Elena stopped to look at a graffitto on the side of an empty building, Tifa followed her with her eyes and tried to discern what she was looking at. From what she could see, it looked like a crudely drawn outline of the human body, with another, smaller and incomplete one behind it. It might have been drawn in blood, but it was hard to tell.

"Find something?" Tifa asked. She hated to ask Elena anything, but somehow felt it was important.

"Well...yes, but maybe not what we're looking for." She turned away from the drawing and faced Tifa. "That looks a little like the icon for cloning. I - well, we, really - saw something like that on...on some folders for cloning research. Hojo used it a lot." She looked slightly ill when she said his name. "It's weird that anyone around here would know it, and weirder that they would draw it. If that's really what it's supposed to be. I mean, anyone who wasn't in ShinRa wouldn't know it."

"Uh huh," Tifa said. "How much do you know about Hojo?" She didn't know where the question came from, but suddenly it felt relevant. The look on Elena's face when she had mentioned him had suggested she'd known something of him, and also it had suggested that she hadn't approved of him. For all her mistrust of the Turks, she had never wondered how they felt about anything.

"I know he was a sick bastard."

"Everyone with a brain knows that. Did you meet him?"

"I met him. I guess it was after I replaced Reno and had to go for Mako treatments. I was terrified, because, you know. Of what he had done to Reno and Tseng."

She'd said this last bit so quietly that Tifa almost didn't hear it. When she figured out what Elena had said, it intrigued her. Still, she feigned disintrest. It was probably going to be some sort of ploy or outright lie, but she asked anyway. "What did he do?"

"Miss Lockheart, you really don't want to talk about this."

"Don't tell me what I do and don't want to talk about." Aside from the fact that this steered the conversation away from Reisei, Tifa was now both defiant and curious.

Elena looked at her steadily. "Fine," she said. "Okay, fine. Not that it changes anything, of course, but I'll tell you anyway. Hojo spiked Reno and Tseng full of Confuse materia intraveinously the night they destroyed the support pillar under the plate. I didn't replace Reno because Cloud had cut him up: Reno's blood was so full of Mako that he healed right up. I replaced him because he was in psych." She waited only briefly for a reaction, then she shrugged. "No big deal, Reno was doing his job. He just had some 'help' from Hojo in terms of decision making."

Tifa stared, open-mouthed. "That's bullshit."

Elena shrugged again. "Okay." She turned away and continued walking. "Let's try to find Cloud."

Tifa grabbed her by the arm to stop her. Elena reached for her gun, but stopped herself before she took it out of her belt. Tifa pointedly ignored this gesture. "Don't stand there and tell me that Reno's not responsible for for the destruction of Sector Seven, and that you're all not responsible for this mess."

"We _are_ responsible for this," Elena said. "And that had nothing to do with being under any kind of status materia. Scarlet walked us into this like puppies on leashes and we didn't even know where we were or who was leading us. She's behind it, but we did it, because we were stupid and greedy and unprofessional. And Reno and Tseng are responsible for blowing up the pillar, too. But when Cloud Strife freaks out and tries to kill people, then clearly he isn't responsible. Am I right?"

"This has nothing to do with Cloud."

"No, of course not," Elena said bitterly. "We're just looking for him to make sure he doesn't fall and hurt himself."

"Elena, Jenova is inside of him! Don't you _get_ that?"

Elena looked steadily at Tifa, and seemed to gather her resolve. With a sick feeling, Tifa knew what was coming. Worse, she knew the other woman would be right when she said that Jenova had been inside of Sephiroth, too.

Elena never said it.

Tifa felt suddenly exhausted. She realized it wouldn't help to stand around sniping with the Turk for the rest of the day. She closed her eyes briefly, and felt some of her anger melt away. She tried guiltily to call it back to her. Her honor and loyalty were weaved through her hatred of the Turks: how could she forgive them and still remain loyal to the Planet and to her friends? Cloud, Vincent, Reeve and Cid had all been in ShinRa as well, but they had gotten out before Sephiroth's attack and Meteor. They hadn't stayed in ShinRa when it got really bad.

Although, she now let herself wonder what would have become of Cloud if his friend Zack hadn't literally dragged him out of ShinRa. How much longer, she wondered, would it have been before Cloud was erased in that tank of Mako, and another ShinRa killing machine had replaced him?

"Forget it," Elena said. "Let's go."

"Yeah," Tifa said, and let her tired feet take her along.

A few more steps later, she found herself talking again. "Tell me about him, then," she said. At first she wasn't entirely sure who she meant. But at the back of her mind, she now saw Reno in the same place Zack had taken Cloud from. "Reno, I mean," she said. "Because here you are spouting all this stuff, so...and we've got some time. You might as well tell me."

"It doesn't matter. We're all different people now in different situations."

"If you don't mind, it matters to me. Reno and ShinRa destroyed so much of my life. If there are reasons, I'd like to know what they are."

"I can't think of reasons, Miss Lockheart, and I don't know what to tell you about Reno. Do you want me to say that he's some tragic, tortured soul who cries everyday because he destroyed Midgar? I won't say it. Even if it were the case, it's not for me to say."

"Jesus, does he even feel remorse?" Tifa didn't know why she suddenly needed to know the answer to this. She'd gotten by for years telling herself that none of them had felt anything.

Elena turned to her again, exasperated. "What do you think?"

"I don't know what I think," Tifa said. "But you have a lot of nerve being defensive."

"Let's just say then that I have a lot of nerve, and leave it at that. We have a job to do."

"You're giving me orders, now?"

"Tifa, let it go!" Elena said. "Get over it!"

Tifa stared levelly at her. "The way you got over us leaving Tseng?"

It was Elena's turn to be nonplussed, although Tifa couldn't imagine that the other woman hadn't seen that coming.

"I am over it," she said, as she looked back at the drawing. "We have a job to do and I'm here to do it. Right now there's nothing else."

Tifa was silent as Elena traced her finger over the crude sketch.

_Zangan would be so disappointed,_ she thought suddenly. She hadn't thought of her martial arts teacher once through this entire ordeal, and was annoyed that her subconscious was kicking her in the head over him now. She supposed that Zangan would be disappointed, because she was letting her emotions drain her.

_"How do you expect to win, Tifa? Behaving like a child, releasing all of your energy in hateful words instead of through your fists? Don't fight out of anger,"_ he whispered in her mind. _"And don't slap away the hand that's offering help."_

Tifa took a slow, deep breath and released it, centering herself on her task. Elena was occupied for the moment, but suddenly Tifa wasn't afraid that the other woman would attack her if she closed her eyes. She did so. All at once, her senses opened up, and she realized that she would know with her eyes closed if anyone was about to attack her. And there was no shame in having forgotten this practice, either. She was simply grateful that her mind was clear again.

She listened with her whole body. Everything was sharp and clear to her, from the wind whistling through holes in buildings to the sound of Elena's shoes scuffing the dusty pavement. To her right, from the inside of a building, she heard more interesting sounds, _human_ sounds.

"Miss Lockheart...?"

"Shh," Tifa said, on a peaceful exhale. She was certain she had just heard a soft cry. It sounded like a woman.

"I hate to interrupt, but I think something happened here."

Tifa opened her eyes. For the first time since setting out, she was seeing things the way she was supposed to see them. Footprints in the dust. Patterns of blood splatter on the ground where the cement had collapsed, and leading from it was a trail of blood. Someone had clearly dragged himself away from this place. A piece of metal lay on the ground by the shattered sidewalk, also bloodied.

Elena was pointing to a different patch of blood. This one had obviously come from a body that had been dragged. She could see the outline, and the marks left by the heels of the body. It led off to Reeve's arcade.

"Someone needs help," Tifa said softly.

"But what about..."

"It will all fall together."

Elena glanced away, then back to Tifa. "I like the holistic approach and all," she said, "but I don't know if we should be trusting karma to lead us to Cloud."

Tifa shook her head. "It's not karma. You were right the first time when you called it holistic: it _is_ connected. Someone needs help in there. I think it has something to do with Cloud."

"How...?"

"I don't know. But the least we could do is ask someone if they've seen him."

Elena gave her the barest hint of a smile. "That I can understand."

Together they walked towards the ruined arcade.

* * *

**Cloud Strife**

Cloud knew approaching human consciousness with all of his senses but sight. It was coming from the lobby of a ruined inn that he had just passed. He hadn't seen her yet, but he knew she was female, filthy, and desperate. He stopped walking, eager for human contact and curious about what she was doing in an alley in the otherwise deserted Sector Five.

"Hey, soldier," she said. She most likely didn't know if he'd been in SOLDIER or not; the greeting was a common one from a certain type of woman in Midgar. "Hey soldier, you from around here?"

Cloud turned around to see her. She was young.

"How'd you like to waste some t -" She drew her breath in quickly and took a step back.

Cloud guessed that his eyes must have been just about on fire. "Don't like the enhanced look?" he asked.

Without another word, she turned and ran back into the inn. He could smell her overpowering fear as she retreated. Something in him, of which he'd never been aware before, wanted to chase her, to follow the scent and bear it to the ground. He felt the adrenaline in his blood, and his muscles tensed up for the run.

_Don't,_ he thought. _No point._

There was no point in chasing the girl; after all, what would he gain? What would he do with her? He couldn't think of a thing to do. Couldn't think of a thing.

Couldn't think.

_Should think. Should think about..._

Static-white flash of her energy, and for a moment, he fought it.

_Think about her heart. You've seen it._

Another flare of her energy, and the random thought was wiped from his brain.

Cloud walked on.

He was quickly becoming bored. Everything around him was dead or dying, and he wondered if he shouldn't have stayed with Tifa after all. But that wouldn't have worked, either. He needed some time with her, but he needed to be alone with her. Everyone else would just get in the way. They would try to stop him.

_Stop me from doing what?_

_What do I want with Tifa? What do I..._

Another burst of static-white in his head cut the question short.

He had to be alone with Tifa. He knew she would follow him.

Cloud walked on, absorbing every assault of the senses that the deserted city offered him.

The smells of decay and dried blood rose up from the ground. They mingled with the Mako into the air to become a nauseatingly familiar smell.

_The lab..._

_I don't like this._

Another white flare.

Cloud opened his eyes. The air was sweet, and from somewhere close he could smell flowers. There were flowers in Midgar, like there should have been. This made Cloud very happy. It would be a good place to stay, a _healthy_ place to stay, to breed, to pass on his DNA.

Yes, that was it. A good place to settle down and raise children.

Overhead, the sky was blue. Cloud laughed, and, staring up at the sky, kept walking.

He looked down when he stepped on something bulky and yielding.

The shape of it was obscured; Cloud couldn't decide what it was. A tree stump maybe...except that it had been soft when he stepped on it. A springy, grass covered hill? But the shape was dark, not green like soft grass.

Another flare in his brain made him jerk backwards, and he blinked and opened his eyes.

He was staring down at Hojo. Hojo had was covered in blood and had a hole in his forehead. Obviously he was dead.

Now _this,_ of all things, was what he wanted to see. It was a good vision, it fit in with what he knew to be true: Hojo was dead and couldn't bother him anymore.

And at the same time it was unsatisfying, because there was nothing further that Cloud could do. Was he just expected to confirm once again that Hojo was dead and then move on? Hardly fair, considering all of the things Hojo had done to him.

Static burst of white, and a buzz of confusion. Things were changing inside his head.

"Where...where..." Cloud said, though he didn't know if anyone was around to hear him.

The noise cleared from his head and Cloud looked down again. Hojo was staring blankly up at him. He nudged the body with his foot.

"Numberless," it said.

Cloud leapt back, because he had been certain that the body was dead. He hadn't seen the lips move. And there was that hole in Hojo's head to consider.

"Failure," it said, and again the lips didn't move.

Or at least it seemed as if they hadn't. When he really thought about it, he could sort of remember them having moved. He was _sure_ that Hojo's lips had moved when he'd spoken that last (_hateful, so hateful_) word.

"Say that again," Cloud said.

A moment passed, and nothing happened. Then: "Failed experiment."

He had heard it _and_ seen it that time. And Hojo's stare was no longer blank; it was focussed on his failed experiment. Cloud felt glorious anger seethe up through his veins and nerves. It filled his heart, made his palms tingle and his mouth dry. He felt the hair on his arms standing up.

"Aren't you going to beg me for a number?" Hojo asked.

Cloud smiled. For the first time in his life, he was in control of Hojo. He couldn't believe his luck, having literally stumbled over the scientist and now having him at his mercy.

_Your what?_ he asked himself, giggling at the idea.

"Hojo," Cloud said, "my mother, Planet rest her, used to tell me to treat people the way they treated me."

The doctor remained silent, only staring at Cloud. There now seemed to be fear in his eyes.

Cloud took the doctor by the wrist. "Come with me, Hojo. I need to straighten a few things out with you."

The doctor didn't oblige, but Cloud hadn't expected him to. Hojo was a slight person, and Cloud was feeling strong as it was. He dragged the doctor along behind him as he walked towards a building. It looked like a kind of amusement park on the outside, but Cloud was sure it wasn't. He knew he would find the lab on the inside.

There were a few noises coming from that building, but Cloud wasn't too concerned about them just then. His ears were filled with the satisfying sound of Hojo's body dragging along behind him.


	17. chapter seventeen

_I want to take a moment to thank those of you who are reading this. I'm really glad that a few people are enjoying this story, as I had a lot of fun writing it._

_This story _is_ finished, so, barring any bizarre and unforeseen circumstances, I will continue to update it until the end, which is not far off. I hope that those of you who are reading will continue to enjoy it. Thank you for sticking with this story._

_An anonymous person commented that "psycho boy" Cloud should be allowed to feel something before he starts chopping things up. Very astute observation, Anonymous. Bravo or brava. _

_This section is really gross. Sorry about that._

_

* * *

_

_"Take a little walk to the edge of town, go across the tracks_

_Where the viaduct looms like a bird of doom_

_As it shifts and cracks_

_Where secrets lie in the border fires, in the humming wires_

_Hey man, you know you're never coming back_

_Past the square, past the bridge, past the mills, past the stacks_

_On a gathering storm comes a tall handsome man_

_In a dusty black coat with a red right hand"_

_"Red Right Hand" - Nick Cave_

_

* * *

_

**ShinRa**

"Esuna," Scarlet said, as she hit her captive with another blast of it. "I can't keep doing this, damn you."

Fletcher slumped against the wall and his hands stopped twitching. She had tied his hands at first so that he couldn't fight her, but she now kept them tied because he wouldn't stop trying to rip his face off. The lacerations were, in Scarlet's estimation, pretty frigging gruesome. He'd been going at his skin for hours, it seemed, and his fingertips were covered in blood. The wounds on his face were worse than the one on his thigh. As it turned out, her bullet had only grazed his leg. It had already stopped bleeding, and she hadn't had to tie a tourniquet as she'd originally thought she would. For once, she was thankful that she was such a bad shot.

Scarlet had briefly left him here in the storage basement of Reeve's arcade while she went out scavenging for medical supplies, because she couldn't continue to watch him do that to himself. She could stand a lot of things, but the sight (and sound) of a man ripping his skin off was not one of them.

He seemed to be unconscious, so she doused the gauze that she had nicked into the antiseptic that she had nicked (the owner of the pharmacy was either dead or evacuated, and Scarlet had no problems with stealing to begin with,) and then pressed the gauze to Fletcher's cheek.

That woke him up right quick. He tried to scream through his gag.

"Shh," she said. "I know it stings, but trust me, it's better than letting it get infected." Scarlet didn't like to think she would be with him long enough for that to happen, but one never knew. Tears leaked from his frantic eyes, and Scarlet wiped them away. "Don't need any salt in there, do we?" she said.

It was kind of pathetic, the way he kept trying to sob through the gag. It made her uncomfortable, but she knew she wasn't responsible for this. On the contrary, she had probably saved his life, though she doubted that Reeve would see it that way. Fletcher couldn't seem to figure out what she was doing. She wondered if he even remembered who she was.

"You've been hit with status materia," she said. "And it's not wearing off. That's part of why I've got your hands tied. Okay?"

He nodded, holding eye contact with her as if he were desperate for it. She suspected he was. He was definitely in shock.

"So, uhh, you're going to be all right if you just let me take care of this. You see?"

Slowly, he nodded once more.

"I'm going to take the gag off so I can clean your face, but you have to promise to be quiet. I can't do it with you screaming and making a scene."

He nodded again. She removed the gag.

"Scarlet?" he rasped.

"Yes. Now hold still."

Fletcher tried very hard to hold still as she pressed the gauze to the lacerations on his jaw, but it was clearly a struggle.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Sorry? You shot me, you bitch."

"Only a little."

He was quiet for a moment, like a resentful child, as he submitted to her ministrations.

"Scarlet?"

"What?"

"Why did you take me here?"

She paused for a moment to weigh her options as she once more doused the gauze. "You're a political prisoner," she said. "Your ransom is made up of conditions for Reeve."

He winced as she pressed the gauze to his face again, but he didn't cry out. "What conditions?"

She glanced at his eyes and toyed with the idea of telling him the truth. She had to name her terms to Reeve at some point anyway, so she decided there was no reason not to tell him.

"The Turks," she said. "He needs to hand them over to me, so there's that, for starters. But the major things are immunity and his resignation."

Fletcher jerked his head around to look at her. He was stunned. "I don't think he can even grant you immunity, Scarlet. Or at least, no more than you've already granted yourself. You have a lot of clout."

"Not as much as you'd think," she said. "Reeve Skye has all of Midgar."

"Yeah, and there's nothing left of that, is there?"

He did have a point. Scarlet was slightly taken aback by the change in him. He had gone from raving lunatic to astute businessman in a few minutes.

She shrugged. "He'll rebuild. He'll get gil from Junon, and ports as far as Costa Del Sol will probably rush to his aid. You can't deny that he's popular."

"And what is calling for his resignation going to accomplish? You know he'll only come back stronger years later, and if you release me, you'll have nothing more to bargain with."

She sat back on her heels. "Fletcher, try to understand me. Okay, first of all, Reeve might not even live through this. Something huge is going on and he's involved. But let's say he does, and as usual, he comes out on top. People will love him for it, because even I have to admit that I think he'll shine through this thing. If he resigns during the crisis, his public will never forgive him."

"He could expose you."

"You're saying I should just kill him myself?" She smiled slyly.

He didn't flinch, but looked her in the eye. "Why haven't you?"

"Because I know Reeve, and I know he's got informants everywhere. If I kill him, it will get out. It's almost better for me if he lives."

"So you're going to hold me here until he publicly resigns in the middle of this crisis?"

"If need be."

"What if he exposes you before you even negotiate?"

"Reeve knows I have you, but he doesn't know that I'm alone with you. As far as he knows, I've got people guarding you, ready to cut your throat. You know that he won't risk an innocent life for his personal gain."

"What about his informants?"

"That's why I want immunity."

Fletcher finally looked away. He was indignant and self-righteous, but at least he was sane and not gouging his cheeks anymore. Scarlet decided she liked the Reeve's-puppy version of this man worlds better than the raving lunatic.

As she gently wiped more blood from his face, Scarlet became aware of noise from the door.

"Quiet," she hissed, as she drew her gun.

Fletcher didn't make a sound. Scarlet tensed, at attention, ready to fire at the intruder, to hide the gun if it was someone harmless or if by some chance it was more press, or to put the gun to Fletcher's head if it was Reeve or one of his people.

"...because of all the people you murdered..." came the voice from the stairs above.

The word "murder" wasn't good in this context, she decided. And the voice had a strange quality to it, an edge that she couldn't place but didn't like. She now heard footsteps on the stairs, followed by a sliding thud each time.

"...children...some of them were children."

Sudden silence. Even the footsteps had stopped. She heard the voice whisper, "Wait here and don't move."

Scarlet waited for the footsteps to continue down the stairs, but they didn't. All was silent. She felt her palms becoming slick against the gun, and against the wall as she braced herself on it. Crouching here felt safe, but she knew it would be better to stand up; she would have more control over herself and the gun if she was on her feet. Slowly, she stood up.

As the silence drew out, she discovered that she was terrified. She should have heard more movement by now. She knew that this person was creeping down the stairs, and she had no idea how close he was. She wanted to dive behind the boxes to hide, but it was too late for that now, because she would make too much noise. As slowly as she could, she stepped sideways, closer to one of the boxes. She knew he was approaching, but he was so quiet that she had no way of knowing when he'd show himself. She fought the urge to run.

A quick glance at Fletcher told her that he was feeling the same apprehension. She prayed that he would be quiet, or that if he couldn't, he would draw the killer's attention to himself and...

_Killer?_ she thought frantically. _What the hell made me think that?_

She took another sideways step towards the boxes, and then let out a small shriek when he entered the room. She tried to fire the gun, but couldn't, because she was frozen to the spot, trying to scream at his appalling speed, and his eyes.

_Killer, killer, I was right, he is a killer..._

"Fucking _ShinRa!_"

She could have sworn that he was gliding into the room, and god help her, it was _Cloud Strife,_ except that he didn't look anything like she remembered. His eyes burned with hatred and insanity, and through the gold pyramid of light he had stunned her with (_Oh Christ, god, he's got Reno's weapon, how did he ever..._) she could see his catlike pupils, black as death in his glowing irises.

"Fucking ShinRa," he repeated, pointing the EMr in her direction. "Wait there and don't move. It's time for a...time for a..." He seemed to be stuck on the word, and he startled her by squeezing his eyes shut and flinching back so hard he almost stumbled into the wall. Then he opened his eyes slowly and smiled. He giggled, and it was an eerie sound devoid of any humor or life. "It's a reunion," he said. Then he disappeared around the corner again.

Scarlet thought frantically about shooting the wall of energy he had put around her with Reno's weapon, but an old memory of Reno explaining the EMr to her stopped her. She knew the bullet would ricochet and that the wall could only either wear off or be broken from the outside. But she held on to the gun. Strife hadn't seemed to notice it.

She even held her grip on it when Strife came back in, dragging the corpse of the Hojo clone she had killed behind him.

Fletcher choked on a gasp. Strife ignored him.

"Sweet Planet," Scarlet said. She was close to crying. Strife was the most powerful person she knew of - at least physically he was - and he was out of his mind. She watched in awe as he pulled the clone's body up by the arm and flung it against the wall as if it were a piece of plastic.

"Don't move," he told it.

In spite of her terror, or maybe because of it, Scarlet fleetingly wondered if he was kidding or not. When he turned to her, she was assured that he wasn't. In his confusion, he had convinced himself that the body of the clone was alive.

_In his confusion._ Confusion! _Of course!_

Relief made her knees feel weak. When the wall around her wore down, she would hit him with Esuna. Cloud Strife may have hated her, but she also knew that he wouldn't hurt her if she did what he wanted, once he was himself again. She trusted his mercy. Strife would be willing to negotiate.

"Cloud..." she began.

"Shut up!" he barked, and he hit the wall around her with the EMr. It shattered, and Scarlet took the opportunity. She hit him with Esuna.

He was now face to face with her, with no barrier between them, and he looked stunned and perplexed.

"Esuna?" he asked. Then he smiled, and she saw that her idea hadn't worked. "Scarlet, there isn't a single status effect on me." With the same sickening speed she had seen before, he knocked the gun out of her hand, hitting her wrist so hard that she felt her fingers tingle.

She took a few frantic steps backward as he advanced on her, until she felt her back hit the wall. His eyes were terrible and bright. His lips were red and his cheeks were flushed, and she could feel sick heat coming off of him in waves. She closed her eyes, because looking at him was like looking at everything that had ever gone wrong on the Planet.

He was close to her, and suddenly quiet. She realized that he was lifting his hand to touch her. Gods, what did he _want_? She could feel the heat from his palm as it skimmed past her neck intimately, as if he were sensing her...

She finally had to open her eyes to see what he was planning, because by the Planet, if Cloud Strife had gone mad and was going to rape her, she would fight him until they were both dead and she wanted him to know that. She glared at him defiantly, knowing it was a look that any man might recognize.

His expression, which had been dazed, changed to revelation. He took a step back.

"Scarlet, really," he said. "Just because I'm starving doesn't mean I'm going to eat dirt."

She had slapped him before she even realized she was doing it. God _damn_ him, that even at the end of his sanity he had the presence of mind to hurt her without even touching her. It was this sanctimonious primness in him that she had hated since she'd first laid eyes on him, which said that no matter how humbly he presented himself, he still thought himself too pure for her.

He turned back to her slowly, and there was a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. He rolled his glowing eyes in arrogant annoyance, took her by the shoulder, and pushed her to the floor.

"Don't move," he said, and he took the gun and put it in the waistband of his pants. "In fact, Stop." He turned and cast status materia of his own, and Scarlet was frozen in place.

Then he turned his attention back to the dead clone.

"I don't know what I did to make Fortune so happy with me," he said to the body. "She's been fucking me for years, so maybe she finally got off. Thank the Planet and I'm just sorry it didn't happen sooner! You're here with me, it's all good, Hojo, because I can...I can feel things again, you know?" He kneeled beside the corpse and grabbed it by its blood-caked hair. "So I want to feel you die. I didn't get to the last time I..."

Scarlet saw his mouth go slack and his eyes go wide. She knew he must have realized he'd already killed Hojo. He blinked, flinched, and then the predatory look returned again.

"We have some time before she gets here, so we can, you know, catch up."

Scarlet had no idea who "she" was, but she suspected he might have meant Jenova. In the meantime, he seemed to have forgotten all about her and Fletcher. Scarlet hoped against all hope that he would continue to forget until the status he had cast on her wore off, which it was just about to do. But the evil luck that had plagued her these last few days was consistent: Strife turned back to her.

"Stop," he said again, and again Scarlet was locked in place. "I'll deal with you later, ShinRa." He glanced over at Fletcher. "You, too," he added. "Whoever the hell you are." Then he turned back to the corpse.

Scarlet's stomach was in a knot as she watched him pull the clone's arms out to its sides and straighten its legs. She wanted to look away as he buckled imaginary straps over its wrists, but she found that she couldn't. The pantomime was perfect; she didn't have to guess what he was doing.

Strife was likely planning on killing her next, and probably with just as much detail. He blurred in her vision as tears filled her eyes. She had startled and sickened herself by admitting that she might die tonight. ShinRa would never be reborn. She would die tonight, and Strife would make her suffer.

Strife filled an imaginary needle and mimed plunging it into the dead clone's arm. He slapped the corpse's face suddenly, and hard. "Stop screaming!" he yelled gleefully. "It distracts me!"

The Hojo clone's head stayed turned towards Scarlet, the bullet hole like a third eye in its forehead. Its mouth was gaping and the skin was discolored where Strife had struck it.

"Let's see, typical day in Hojo's lab..." Strife stood up and scanned the room, ignoring Scarlet and Fletcher once more. Scarlet knew he'd found something that interested him when his vertical pupils dilated with unnatural speed. She'd never seen anything so sinister, and she blocked out the thought that he might be the last thing she saw on this Planet.

Strife darted over to where a box cutter lay on a shelf, and grabbed it. Fletcher gasped, and Scarlet silently prayed that he could keep quiet. The status Strife had cast on her was about to wear off, but he turned and negligently cast it on her again. He was so skilled with materia that timing it was second nature to him, and Scarlet gave up hope of his forgetting to recast it.

He went back to kneeling beside the corpse, but now he was on the other side of it, so that he wasn't blocking any part of it from her or Fletcher. She doubted he'd done it on purpose, because he was back in his own world again.

"What's that?" he asked, as he leaned closer to the body. "Difficult to speak with a gag over your tongue, isn't it? Oh, now, what was that? Anesthesia? Hojo, really. What did you always tell me? 'Pain that doesn't kill you will make you stronger.' Hojo, thank you for making me the strongest person on the Planet." He turned the corpse's face back towards him and shook the box cutter at it. "I just thanked you, Hojo. You should savor that because, you know...you know, it's not going to happen again."

Scarlet barely saw him move as he cut down the front of the body, but suddenly it seemed as if Hojo's skin had leapt away to either side of him, and a day's worth of bloat and Mako spewed out of him.

Fletcher turned his head away and vomited the bit of water she had given him. He kept heaving, but there was nothing left to come out. Scarlet herself felt her stomach rise up in protest at the stench, but there was nothing in her system to throw up.

"I went a little too deep," Strife said conversationally. "But then, I'm not the doctor, so you can't expect me to do everything with precision." He stood up and looked back to Scarlet, ready to cast stop on her again, but when he saw the two of them, he faltered.

"Don't," he said.

Scarlet screwed up her courage and spoke to this monster. "Don't what?"

"Don't _look_ at me like that!" he shouted. He raised a shaking hand to his head and pressed his fingertips against his forehead. "This is nothing," he muttered. "This is like five minutes worth of quality time with Hojo." He took a step forward, as if to catch his balance. "This is _nothing._"

He took another step and then sank to his knees, dropping the box cutter next to him. He raised his eyes towards the ceiling as if he were looking through it to the sky, and Scarlet saw that he was crying. She'd never seen it before, but there were a thousand days of this in his eyes. She felt something close to pity for this inhuman thing. She'd needed him dead for a long time, but she'd suddenly realized that death might be better for him, as well. The revelation surprised her.

"Mr. Strife?" Fletcher said raggedly.

_Oh, you stupid ass_! Scarlet mentally cursed him. Strife had been distracted and she could have used it against him.

Strife looked at Fletcher, steeling himself visibly for anything. "What?"

"I, uhh...I know it doesn't mean anything, but uhh, I'm sorry you had to live that way."

Scarlet looked at Fletcher to see if this was some sort of ploy. She was shocked to see that Fletcher was also crying, and it didn't seem to be for his own predicament.

Strife bowed his head and wept quietly into his hands. Scarlet saw her chance. The status had worn off, and the box cutter was by his side. With a motion to Fletcher that told him to stay where he was and keep quiet, she crawled slowly, on hands and knees, closer to Strife.

She had nearly closed in on him when he looked up. Scarlet froze where she was, thought quickly, and changed her ploy. She had always been good at crying when it suited her, and certainly now it was no challenge, with the stench of Mako and rot in the air, and the thought of dying at his hands.

"I'm so sorry, Cloud."

He frowned warily as Scarlet continued to approach him. "What do you want?"

"To help... I'm worried about you."

He blinked when she said that, and slumped forward. Scarlet caught him without thinking about it.

"Mom," he said into her shoulder. His hand came up and touched her hair. His mother must have been blond, too.

She had never been held for comfort before, and it gave her a strange feeling, entirely alien to her and somewhat uncomfortable. He was a diseased, insane wreck, who, in her opinion, should have died long ago; but she found herself stroking his back as if it were an instinct, even as she reached for the box cutter.

She could hear and feel his heart beating so hard that it shook him. His hands clutched her back and her hair as she took hold of the blade and brought it to his front. She would have to find a way of slipping it against his throat without raising his suspicions, and that might be difficult, but perhaps not. If he had convinced himself she was his mother, it would be the furthest thing from his mind.

His hand left her hair and grabbed her wrist too quickly for her to react. His grip was insanely strong and she heard the blade drop to the floor - she didn't feel it leave her fingers, because they were already numb.

_This is it,_ she thought. She had missed her only chance, and he was going to kill her.

He pulled away from her and turned his head slowly to look at her. Scarlet let out a sob of dismay and terror.

Strife's eyes were rimmed in red - far too red to be discoloration from exhaustion.

_Christ, oh, Planet help us,_ she thought. She had seen many frightening things, but she had never before seen anyone cry tears tinged with blood. She was sure that was what she was seeing. His lips were perfectly red, too, and dry. She thought his blood pressure must be soaring. She wondered if it would kill him before he killed her.

He stood up quickly, dragging her with him. Scarlet shrieked in a small, helpless voice. She was out of pride; she would beg if she had to, and she was just about to, when Cloud pushed her away. She landed on the floor a few feet from him, trembling but still glad to be away from him.

"Fucking ShinRa," he hissed. He glared at her with bloodshot eyes as he paced. "Just like you to try something like that, sneaky ShinRa, can't do anything fairly." He stopped and cocked his head to the side. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. Without turning around, he said, "ShinRa, Fortune really does like me today. We have company."

Scarlet suspected that the only person in the room more startled than she was just then was Elena. Cloud had reached behind him and seemingly snatched the Turk out of thin air, though Scarlet had to imagine that she'd been waiting behind the wall next to the doorway. Cloud had simply moved too quickly for her to see them.

Elena gasped when Strife brought her around to his front and she got a good look at him. She immediately choked back the gasp when the smell in the room hit her.

"Thank you for coming by," he said to Elena. "Take a seat by your colleagues." With that, he threw her to the ground next to Scarlet.

"I'm not her..." Elena began.

"STOP!" Strife yelled, and cast the materia on both women. "Fucking SHINRA! Come on out, Tifa. I've got them all lined up for you."

Scarlet had never in her life thought she would be happy to see Tifa Lockheart. Lockheart stepped into the basement, looking oddly peaceful - though she was clearly breathing shallowly to avoid inhaling the awful Mako and rot - and stood beside Strife for a moment, looking his captives over. Then she turned to Strife, and her confidence was clearly shaken.

"Cloud," she said in a timorous voice.

Cloud grinned at her. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. "It's a gift for you, Teef," he said. "To celebrate...us. To celebrate us, me and you and our children."

Lockheart shook her head, took a step back as if for balance. "Cloud, we don't..."

"Not yet, Tifa, but it's time. Don't you think it's time? Now that I'm myself again?"

Lockheart stared at him for a moment, and finally let out the sob she'd been holding in. She put her hand to his face and brushed some of the blood away. "Cloud," she said, "we have to let these people go."

"Let them go! Teef, it's ShinRa!"

"No they're not, not anymore. You were just telling _me_ that. Look." She turned his face towards the three people against the wall, who were watching, aghast. Then she addressed Fletcher. "Are you Reeve's secretary?" she asked.

Fletcher nodded.

"Cloud, that's Fletcher, the man Reeve has been looking for. He's a friend. He's not ShinRa and never has been. He has nothing to do with this." She turned his face back to her. "He's innocent. You have to let him go."

Cloud shrugged, then smiled. "Okay, he can go."

Tifa turned to face Fletcher and gave him a long, piercing look. "Fletcher, you're free to go. Reeve is looking for you in Sector Seven."

Scarlet wasn't entirely certain, but it seemed that Tifa was sending for help. Fletcher was too afraid to move, and his hands were still tied. Those were easily taken care of, as Tifa moved to untie him, but there was also the matter of Fletcher's actually getting to Reeve in his condition. As Tifa knelt down to untie Fletcher and help him to his feet, Scarlet surreptitiously removed the anti-status ribbon from under her dress.

"Whatever you're reaching for," Strife said, making Scarlet's skin tense with sudden fear, "I'm going to wrap it around your neck three times if you try to use it."

Lockheart looked at Scarlet with a kind of stern understanding. She took the ribbon from her and nodded in accord. "It's just a ribbon," Tifa said. "Scarlet would like Fletcher to take it so he can get back safely."

She saw Strife's eyes narrow. "Why the hell does she care if he gets back safely?"

"Because Fletcher's no good to me dead," Scarlet said. Sometimes the truth served better than any lie. "I took him for ransom. He's got influence that I could use."

"ShinRa to the last," Strife said. "If you start hurting yourself, I'm just going to watch for a while."

Scarlet held her breath, waiting for Strife to ask her what good Fletcher was to her if he was free, but he didn't. Later she would reflect that this was where he had made his fatal mistake.

"She won't," Lockheart said in a quiet, flat voice. "Not unless she's been living here, like I guess Fletcher has." When Fletcher seemed disinclined to move, she pulled him to his feet. "Go," she ordered.

Fletcher took his time as he edged up to Cloud, then ran like hell past him and up the stairs. Scarlet felt a rush of hope and triumph. She decided that, later on, she might not even be ashamed that Reeve had come to save her. Just then, she would have hugged the stupid bastard if he'd been there.

Strife was chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip, and didn't seem to realize that he had made himself bleed even more. He looked like a vampire in the dim light, right to his gleaming, hate-filled eyes.

"The last two are ShinRa," he said. "Who's going to do the honors, Teef, me or you? Or both of us?"

Tifa turned to face him. She looked composed, even though tears were streaming down her face. "We can't kill them, Cloud. They're not ShinRa."

He took a step towards her. "They have you fooled, too. ShinRa has finally fooled Tifa Lockheart? The world must be about to end."

Tifa didn't stand down. "And even if they were, we couldn't kill them."

"Sure we can. Over the years, we killed countless Soldiers and ShinRa employees along the way."

"They were fighting back!" she said, and now she sounded shrill, as if she had finally realized how serious he was.

Cloud raised an eyebrow. "The ones in those Mako reactors weren't."

Tifa opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again.

_Say it, you stuck up little snot,_ Scarlet thought. _I want to hear it before I die._

"They were working for ShinRa," Cloud said. "Sucking the life from the Planet, and we killed them, and it was fine back then, wasn't it? What's the difference now?"

"It wasn't fine, Cloud. It was wrong." She took a deep breath. "The Mako reactors had to go, and ShinRa had to go, but we went about it the wrong way. We killed people who were, if not innocent, then no more guilty than I was, or Barret, or Cid and Reeve, who worked for ShinRa, or you." She took both of Strife's hands in hers. Tears continued to make tracks down the dust on her face. "I had no business making you do that, Cloud. I wanted you to stay with me; I wanted to bring down ShinRa. I was selfish, but I didn't realize how much it would hurt you."

"Hurt _me_? Tifa, I was a mercenary. And before that, I saw all kinds of shit..."

"It hurt you, Cloud, setting those bombs and killing those people, bringing you back to those reactors. And I'm so sorry."

"I'm the one who joined ShinRa in the first place."

"And then you left. And so did they." Tifa pointed towards Scarlet and Elena.

Strife looked at them at first with confusion, then with sudden clarity. Scarlet could very nearly see the past clearing away from him, so that he could see the present. He looked stunned. Scarlet felt relief so strong it almost made her dizzy. Cloud Strife, not in his right mind and ready to kill without thought, was a dangerous animal. Cloud Strife, righteously angry and hopped up on Mako - but in control of himself - that she could deal with. She could _reason_ with.

"Let them go, Cloud," Tifa said.

_And then you'll probably bleed out and die,_ Scarlet added mentally. It couldn't have been easy for Lockheart, who was at least Strife's good friend, to see him like this. But then, it hadn't been easy for Scarlet to blow a hole in Rufus ShinRa's head, either, but one did what one had to do. She was out of whatever pity she might have been able to scrape up. And if she hadn't been, then Lockheart's admission that she had, in essence, sent Strife off to blow up Mako reactors with her because she _wanted him around_ would have cleared up any stray goodwill she might have had. Lockheart and the others had one hell of a nerve calling ShinRa sick, when...

But now was not the time for her to dwell on vendettas. Now she had been given a chance to escape with her life.

"Right," Strife said softly. "Because Elena came to help." He blinked slowly and looked back down at Lockheart, who was still holding his hands. "Elena is here to help. She came to help. We have to let go of the past."

Lockheart nodded. "Yes. You tried to tell me that, but I refused to listen. I was stubborn." Delicately, she wiped the moisture - tears or sweat or blood or whatever the hell it was - from his face. "You were r - "

"Tifa," he said. He blinked his eyes hard, opened them again, and looked frantically at Lockheart. "Tifa!"

"Cloud? Are you...?"

"Tifa, I saw something." He ground his teeth together hard, balled his hands into fists and struck himself on the head. "No, damn you, let me talk!"

Startled, Scarlet realized that she was watching a struggle, of which she could only see one side.

"Cloud," Lockheart said, "is she...?"

"I saw something," he managed through gritted teeth. "I saw her...her..." His voice grew faint, and he stumbled, tripping over his feet. Lockheart went to grab him and steady him, but he caught his balance with his hand on the wall behind him. "Her heart," he said in the faintest of whispers.

Lockheart was at a loss. "Her...heart? Whose, Cloud?"

She reached for him, but Strife had jerked back from her. It was so sudden that Scarlet barely saw it happen. His hands went to his head again.

"Cloud, no," Lockheart said. She tried to sound stern, but only sounded afraid.

He turned away, mumbled something Scarlet couldn't understand. When he turned to face them again, pulled his hands away from his face and looked up, his eyes were glowing more fiercely than they had before.

"Fucking ShinRa!" he snarled.

Scarlet's heart sank.


	18. chapter eighteen

_Anonymous reviewer - I wasn't goofing on you, just impressed that you saw what was coming. :)_

_That last chapter was gross. This one, not so much. _

_Thanks to everyone who is still reading._

_

* * *

_

**Reeve**

The Masamune scraped softly against the ground as Sephiroth sat down under the wing of the Tempest. He looked far too at ease with himself and the situation, and this, in turn, made Reeve feel even more paranoid. Sephiroth's calm was unreal...or surreal, or subreal. In any case, it was wrong, and it made Reeve feel as if he were floating through one of his weird dreams. If he kept on this train of thought, he might convince himself that this was, in fact, all a dream.

"You dream badly," Elmyra Gainsborough had told him one night, as they sat in her kitchen drinking the tea she had brewed. It was herbal tea, made with plants culled from Aerith's garden. At the time, though Reeve didn't know it, Aerith only had a few weeks to live. He had drank tea from her garden, feeling as if he were drinking something pure and good. Feeling guilty because the girl's stepmother's hair was tousled, and that was his handiwork.

"It's because of the uploading," he had told her. He had said it dismissively, as if it wasn't a big deal at all. So he had jacked all sorts of real-time battle information into his brain and mostly saw the world through the eyes of a robot, so what? He was fine, he was still able to sit at a kitchen and drink tea and have a conversation, wasn't he?

But he dreamed badly. And Elmyra, of course, would know.

"Do you help to protect her?" she had asked.

"When I can," he'd said. "But to be honest, she's stronger than I am."

Elmyra's small smile had silenced him. She gave what she gave, insisting that it wasn't in return for anything (like information on her daughter's wellbeing or whereabouts,) but underneath it all, he was ShinRa and her daughter was the Ancient. So when it really came down to it, she could afford that little, superior smile. And he had nothing to say to that.

"Airship," Sephiroth said, taking Reeve out of his memories and into the present. His eyes were closed and his head was back as he leaned against the outside of the Tempest.

Reeve fought the urge to shoot some sarcastic remark back at him, ("How observant of you, Sephiroth, we only flew over here on it," or "Very good; you're learning,") but he refrained. He was tired, but that didn't make him an idiot. So he kept quiet and hoped that Sephiroth would expand on that.

"It's approaching," Sephiroth said.

A jolt of excitement made Reeve want to wring his hands. If an airship was approaching, it was probably the Highwind. The others would join them soon, and then it would begin.

Whatever the hell "it" was.

"Think it's the Highwind?" Rude asked. Reno and Tseng lay on the ground on either side of him, apparently asleep.

"I guess," Reeve said, although he couldn't hear anything yet. Rude and Sephiroth, being Mako enhanced, would of course hear it long before he would. But he figured that it had to be the Highwind. Reeve doubted that there would be any other airships flying over Midgar: his evacuation plan in cases of chemical or biological disaster included the airspace.

"Then they're coming," Rude said.

"Good," Sephiroth said, his eyes still closed. "The sooner the better. Strife is not going to win this one. If we wait much longer, Jenova will take this battle. All battles, I think."

Such a dismal thing to say, Reeve thought, and Sephiroth had said it so blithely. Reeve suddenly saw that this was, in essence, what was so frightening about Sephiroth; his detachment in the face of inevitability. Different he might be in this new body, but one thing remained the same: Then and now, when he decided something, he carried it out. Nothing else mattered to him.

Reeve knew, even if no one else did, that what truly mattered was Sephiroth's purpose. He was terrifying in his power, overwhelming in his will, and as determined as the sun is hot. But his purpose, this time, was not to feed off the Planet. Reeve was certain that it was the destruction of Jenova. Sephiroth seemed convinced that it was what he was here for, and as always, nothing would stand in his way and live.

Unfortunately, Cloud Strife was in the way.

Reeve would certainly have to do some (_planning_) thinking about this. He felt he was bound to come up with something.

* * *

**Cid Highwind**

"Midgar," Vincent said.

Cid could just see the city, and Vincent was nowhere near any window from where he could see it. Maybe he just sensed it. Or could hear it or smell it. Not being enhanced himself, Cid wouldn't know.

"Yeah," Cid replied, sparing a glance at Vincent.

Vincent sat on the floor of the control room, his eyes closed, his knees pulled up his chest, and his arms draped over them. He looked like hell. He hadn't aged, but he still managed to look a thousand years older than when Cid had last seen him, and that had only been just over a year ago. He supposed that Jenova had to do with this change in him. It must have been a hell of a rough night.

Still, Jenova was strangely quiet, or ... absent, actually. Cid didn't get the feeling that Vincent was struggling to surpress her, (and he doubted that Vincent would have the energy to struggle very hard, judging from the looks of things,) but rather that she just wasn't around then. Vincent must have been enjoying the reprieve.

"I feel quiet," Vincent murmured.

"Yeah?" Cid said. "That bitch is gone for now?" Damn, he was never any good with these sensitive topics.

"Yes, seems so," Vincent said.

"Ah, well...great!"

"No, that's a bad sign."

Cid glanced at Barret, who had raised his head to listen to this part of the conversation. Barret raised an eyebrow. Cid shrugged.

"Why's it bad?" Barret ventured.

"It means she must be focused on Cloud. My feeling is that she's ready to make her move. And if she's got enough energy to make her move, and she's focussing it all on Cloud..."

"What?" Barret asked, no doubt thinking of Tifa and the danger she might be in.

Vincent opened his eyes and looked from Barret to Cid. The skin under his eyes was so dark it looked bruised. "Cloud must be in agony," he said. "A normal person would just die, just shrug off their skin to be rid of her."

Cid said nothing. He thought of someone trying to get out of their own skin, out of their own body, to be away from something inside of them. He shivered, and the hair on his own skin stood up.

"Damn," Barret muttered. "That kid never gets a break."

Cid looked out over the approaching horizon, where he could see more of Midgar. It was surrounded by dust, smog, and a faint, green light that was probably only discernable from the air.

"Better wake up Nanaki and tell Yuffie to get in here," Cid said in a low voice. "We're getting ready to descend."

As the airship broke through the clouds, Cid first saw The Tempest. Reeve was standing atop it, waving his arms as if Cid might not know where the hell to put his own airship down.

"Yeah, I see you, ya dummy," he muttered under his breath. Reeve was a good guy, but so dense sometimes. And Cid was in a bitterly foul mood.

He brought the airship down, catching one last glimpse of Reeve as the wind whipped his hair around in a cloud of dust. He saw Reeve double up coughing, and thought, _"Teach you to stand up there waving your arms around." _

Cid thought about squelching the mood, but then decided it was a bad idea. His own snarling, sarcastic inner voice would be a comfort to him, and might make him feel braver than he normally would. And if he was going to die, he didn't want to go out saccharine, saying his goodbyes like a heroine in a movie. If he did, that would upset any survivors.

Not that he planned on dying, but just in case.

The Highwind touched down, and Yuffie sighed deeply, her eyes still closed. She had been taking deep, even breaths during the descent, and she still looked a little green.

"You okay?" Cid asked.

"Ya," she said, a bit breathlessly. "We're on the ground. I'm good."

"Good. Get your bag of goodies, girl. I think we're gonna need them. Oh, and items in the compartments may have shifted during the flight, or some shit like that. So mind they don't fall on your damn head."

Yuffie took a moment to collect herself, then she retrieved her bag from one of the compartments.

Vincent stood up and addressed everyone. "You say Sephiroth is truly here?"

Barret and Yuffie looked at each other, and then at Cid. Nanaki had just joined them, but he seemed at a loss, as well.

"Yeah," Cid finally said. He looked down at the floor and scratched his head. He couldn't meet Vincent's eyes just then, though he wasn't sure why. "Uhh, Cloud seems to think that he's not evil, or something."

"Truly?"

"Well, he thinks so. They had a nice, long chat." A thought occurred to him, and he was surprised that he hadn't thought of this before. "But keep in mind - all of you - that Cloud isn't in his right mind, either. So, uhh...when he says that Sephiroth is...is okay, or whatever the hell you want to call it, you know... He could be wrong."

It was the best he could come up with. No one said anything, but they seemed to be considering it.

"I'll know," Vincent said. "Even if Cloud didn't know, I will. Will you all take my word for it?"

"What," Barret barked, "if you say that Sephiroth's a good guy? Just take you on your word? Damn, you're a good guy, Vincent, and I'd fight beside you anytime, but that's askin' a hell of a lot."

Cid and Yuffie nodded. Only Nanaki seemed to be considering it.

"Vincent will know," Nanaki said. "He knows Hojo's work, and that's what Sephiroth was, in his first form. It's what Cloud is. Vincent will know Hojo's work, and all that remains for us is to trust that he's telling the truth."

"Well, damn," Cid said. "It's not a question of you telling the _truth_, more of a question of, how can you be sure?"

"I will be," Vincent said. "And besides, what choice have we got? We're going to be fighting something today, anyway, so we'll be prepared for that. What does it matter if it's Sephiroth, something inside of Sephiroth, or something that no longer has to do with him? We'll be ready."

Everyone was quiet, but Cid wondered about that last part. If it was Cloud they had to fight, would anyone be ready for that? He didn't think so.

Sephiroth rose languidly, as if he had every right on the Planet to be there. And how the hell, Cid wondered, had he gotten his hands on his goddamned sword again? Why had no one bothered to try to stop him? Barret seemed to notice, too, as he eyed Sephiroth like the enemy. But he didn't say anything.

Reeve stepped forward and greeted them all in turn. When he got to Yuffie, she thrust the bag she was holding at his chest. Reeve was so off balance that he had to take a step back, but he held onto the bag.

"You'll be glad I'm here when you see what's in there," Yuffie said.

Reeve offered her a wan but sincere smile. "I'm glad you're here regardless," he said.

Yuffie shrugged. "Open the bag."

Reeve opened it, looked in, rummaged around. Then he looked up and smiled. "You're an angel," he said.

Yuffie winked at him. "I want it all back once we're done doing, uh, whatever the hell we're doing."

"I don't think any of us are really sure exactly what comes next," he said, "but we're pretty sure it's going to involve Jenova."

Yuffie shrugged once more. "Beat her once before," she said. "What's the difference?"

"That's what we're not sure of," Reeve said, as he took something from the bag. "By the Planet, miss Kisaragi, you thought of everything." He grinned as he held up a handful of ribbons. "Materia, too, and lots of it."

Rude the Turk looked impassive, but Cid would bet that under his sunglasses his eyes were hopeful. He wanted some of those for the other two Turks. Well, what the hell, there was enough to go around, and the Turks were probably more dangerous if they were attacking people randomly. Reeve sat down with Yuffie's bag of goods, looked around, and started dividing everything up, just as impartial as you please.

It occurred to Cid then that Reeve was the fulcrum of this entire group. ShinRa, ex-ShinRa, Avalanche, the entire past, it didn't matter - he had to balance it all. Cid decided to let him. He might be putting his trust in the wrong place, but again, what the hell? Jenova was holding the cards; Cid didn't feel he had the time to re-hash old battles with the Turks.

He decided it in his mind, but everything else in him just about screamed at the idea of giving Sephiroth access to powerful Materia. That, he guessed, he would also have to get over.

He ventured a glance at the ex-general, and was surprised to see him staring intently at something behind Cid. Cid turned around to see what the hell had him so interested, and saw Vincent staring back at Sephiroth. Trying to figure him out. Cid scratched his head and sighed in resignation. He'd pretty much agreed to go on Vincent's word when it came to Sephiroth; now wasn't a good time to go back on that. If, though, Vincent thought for a moment that Sephiroth would to catastrophic again, why then Cid wouldn't hesitate to put his Venus Gospel right between his ribs.

But it wasn't Vincent who made the first move, even. Reeve was too busy trying to sort out how much Materia Yuffie had brought, and had given the extra ribbons to Rude to distrubute to the fallen Turks. Barret and Yuffie were very carefully watching him do this. Only Nanaki seemed to see what Cid saw.

Reeve was saying, "So we still have enough restorative materia to..."

"Dickless!" Sephiroth said suddenly.

Reeve stopped what he was doing and, like everyone else, looked at Sephiroth.

"Hojo is dickless!" Sephiroth said. "Haha!"

At the sound of the cold, dry sound that he presumed to be laughter, Cid cast a confused glance at Vincent, just in time to see Vincent raise his remaining hand to his mouth in an uncharacteristic gesture of surprise.

Sephiroth closed the distance between himself and Vincent. Cid almost expected Vincent to turn away or even shrink back, but he didn't. He took his hand away from his mouth and held it out in a universal signal of welcome. Sephiroth took Vincent's hand and shook it as if they were old friends. After a moment, Cid realized that there was yet a lot that he didn't know about Vincent Valentine.

"It took me a moment to recognize you," Sephiroth said. "Forgive me for that; you are much changed."

"Not as much as I should be," Vincent said, but there was a slight smile on his lips as he removed the cloak that hid most of his face.

"Didn't recognize him, my ass," Barret barked. "Valentine was one of us. He helped take you down." He said the words, but he said them with a tone of suspision, as if he himself didn't exactly believe them.

Vincent glanced at Barret, and that was all he needed to do. The decision had been made.

Cid had already decided to abide by it.

If anyone had anything to say about the situation, they never got the chance to. The unmistakable sound of someone puking diverted everyone's attention.

There was a man huddled in the middle of the road, still retching, though nothing further was coming up. He had dark hair and blood on his hands. When he looked up, Cid saw that he also had blood on his face. All over his face, to be exact.

"Jesus, Fletcher!" Reeve said, and at once, was off and running.

* * *

**Reeve**

"Your arcade...basement...going to kill...Tifa and the the Turk..."

Those were the words that Reeve could make out, and they were all he needed to hear. He stood up quickly, dragging Fletcher to his feet.

"Sephiroth, Cid, Barret, Yuffie, Vincent, Nanaki, all of you come with me. Fletcher can stay here with Reisei and the remaining Turks. Gather your Materia and let's get..."

"Settle down, Commander Planet," came a rasping voice. "I think you're going to need us, too."

Reeve turned around to see Reno on his feet, next to Rude. Reeve was glad to see him up, but not entirely impressed.

"You're in no condition."

"And you're not really a commander," Reno said. He smirked. It looked oddly out of place on his pale lips. "We're coming with you. Tseng, too."

"Status effects..." Reeve began.

"Are a bitch, but are easily taken care of with these cute little ribbons," Reno finished, dangling one of them from his fingers. He smiled at Yuffie. "This is your payment to me for the time I saved your scrawny ass from Don Corneo."

"Bite me," Yuffie snarled.

"I already did a favor for you, we're even," Reno returned.

Yuffie seemed about to answer, but Sephiroth had quietly walked between them. "The Turk is correct this time. We need all the manpower we can get, even if it's just on the sidelines using supportive and restorative materia. The Turks come along."

Reeve sighed. It was true that he wasn't in any position to lead this small army.

"Anyway, Elena told you to stay behind," Reno said.

"And once you're done with Yuffie, you can bite me," Reeve snarked.

"If we're all finished with our nonsense," Sephiroth said, "then we should move out. It has been my experience that Cloud Strife can only be talked out of something for so long before he decides that he's in the right."

"If you don't remember fighting us," Barret said, "then how the hell would you know that?"

Sephiroth gave Barret a long-suffering, yet condescending look. "I trained him," he said, as if speaking to a child. "I do at least have my memories from before Nibelheim."

Barret grunted in reply, but didn't dissent. Tifa's life was on the line, and if following Sephiroth was the only way to save her, then he would do it. Reeve had always suspected that there was little that Barret wouldn't do for Tifa. Now he was certain of it.

"Reisei is still on the ship," Reeve told Fletcher. "She's... She looks like an old woman. Go to her, and both of you stay on the ship. There's water and other supplies there, all right?"

Fletcher nodded. His face was a mess, he was in obvious shock, but he would live. (If, Reeve reminded himself, anyone at all lived.)

"Are we ready?" Sephiroth said.

No one answered. But slowly, dazedly, the group began to walk away from the airship, towards the ruined Sector Five where the arcade had once stood. Within a minute, they were all walking quickly, with purpose.


	19. Chapter nineteen

Short chapter, kinda rushed, even. Not my favorite. This is almost to the end! Only a few more chapters after this.

Mahalo everyone, for sticking with this fic.

**ETA:** An astute reviewer caught a glaring glitch at the end of this chapter, which I can attempt to remedy with a line or two; hopefully this edited version will work out better. Thank you, observant reader!

* * *

**The Border**

_On one side was noise, hard shapes, rough textures, an unyielding world. On that side, her tired, withered body lay surrounded by stale air inside an airship. A ragged, bloody man had shaken her once in an attempt to rouse the body. He had been an almost infinitely small distraction, and only for a moment. Then he had faded into the rest of the hard shapes._

_On the other side was cool green and vibrant white. The green was of energy; the white, of the essence of the human spirit. _

_ She hovered on the border between the two worlds, waiting for him. _

_It wouldn't be long now._

_

* * *

_

**Avalanche**

It had all happened so fast, Reeve hadn't had time to prepare. Sephiroth had led them to Sector Five, and then Reeve had found himself in the front line, leading them to the arcade. As the group got closer, he could hear them checking their weapons and materia. No one had to be reminded to do these things; they were a grim battle habit. Tseng murmured a few words to Reno and Rude. Reeve didn't hear them all, but he caught Elena's name in it.

Then the arcade was in sight, and as soon as they were nearly upon it, the doors burst open. Scarlet had thrown them open, and she had just taken one frantic step out, when she shrieked and was jerked back inside, seemingly by her hair.

"Strife!" Sephiroth shouted.

The hand that had pulled Scarlet (and Reeve wasn't yet ready to admit that it was Cloud's,) must have released her, because her forward momentum spilled her onto the ground outside of the arcade.

Something that looked like it might have, at one time, been Cloud Strife, followed her out.

"Stop," Sephiroth said, and cast his status materia on Cloud.

Cloud nodded, without even looking to see who had interrupted him. "Stop," he repeated. "Nice one, but I have this..."

Sephiroth closed the distance with nauseating speed. Cloud didn't have the time to react or even to see who was attacking him, before he was knocked to the ground by the flat of the Masamune blade.

"What are you doing, cadet?" Sephiroth said.

A look of profound confusion crossed Cloud's face as he stared up at his General.

"I'm...I'm..."

"You're giving the enemy the advantage."

"Enemy?" Cloud repeated.

As Cloud lay on the ground, Scarlet got up, sobbing. She looked from Cloud to Sephiroth. "Oh, shit," she said.

Reeve broke from the small crowd and went to her. He held out his hand, and she took it without looking at him and let him help her stand.

"Get out of here, Scarlet," he said.

Then, she did look at him. She looked him right in the eyes. "Don't let yourself think I owe you, Reeve," she said. "I'm not finished with you."

"Scarlet, I had expected nothing less."

"You're learning," she said, and pulled her hand away from his. Then she turned and fled.

During Reeve's exchange with Scarlet, Tifa had come out of the arcade, followed by Elena. They both looked exhausted and shaken.

Cloud Strife had gotten himself to his feet. Sephiroth casually kept the Masamune at his side.

"Enemy?" Cloud said again. He looked at everyone in the group, one at a time, lingering noticeably on Vincent. "Enemies," he said, and, reaching behind him, grabbed something off the back of his belt.

"Hey, that's..." Reno began.

He never finished the thought, because Cloud had flicked the EMr on, and the squealing sound it made startled everyone but Sephiroth.

Sephiroth knocked the weapon out of Cloud's hand, reversed the Masamune in his hand and tried to hit Cloud with the handle. Cloud dodged and rolled in such a way that Tifa might have expected, but Sephiroth did not. These moves were not ShinRa training; they were the quick survival impulses given to him by Jenova. Cloud aimed the EMr, not at Sephiroth, but at Elena, and blasted her with it.

Elena fell to the ground, and the Turks were on their knees huddled around her the instant after.

Reeve, among them all, stood staring at Cloud for a moment before getting his ass into gear. In that moment, Cloud looked less than human. After registering this fact and shaking off his own shock, Reeve ran to see if Elena was all right. If she wasn't, then somehow, in some way or another, Cloud would answer to him for it, alien virus or no.

Reeve shoved Reno aside, his heart practically fluttering with nerves and adrenaline as he knelt beside Elena. Her eyes had rolled back, but she was breathing and moving. Rude had begun healing her. Reeve sat back on his heels and remembered to breathe. Elena had just opened her eyes, and Reeve was remarking to himself on how glad he was to see them, so his back was turned when Tifa shrieked.

Reeve, like everyone else, turned around at the sound of her cry to see Tifa standing between Sephiroth and Cloud. Sephiroth was on his feet, and Cloud was on the ground.

"I'll kill you myself!" Tifa shouted at Sephiroth, her arms spread wide in protection and defiance. "Don't touch him again, don't you _dare!_"

Sephiroth sighed, which was not quite the reaction anyone else would have had to her wrath. Wordlessly, he pointed the blade of the Masamune away from him, to the side. Tifa at first refused to look where he indicated.

Reeve looked. At first glance, he wasn't certain what he was seeing. It was a shapeless, black mass. It moved in a lurching, humanoid way, and suddenly Reeve knew. It was somewhere between a someone and a something, and it had just taken a step. It was wearing a black cape.

"Reunion," Reeve whispered to no one but himself.

Vincent Valentine walked to stand behind Sephiroth. "Tifa, look," he said.

Tifa did look at the creature. Then she looked back at Sephiroth, then Vincent. "A clone," she said. The challenge of, "So what?" was in her voice.

"A clone with Jenova cells," Sephiroth said. He turned to Vincent. "Am I correct in my assumption?"

Vincent nodded.

To their left, two more black-clad clones came from the alley. They shuffled along, moaning and muttering in their half-language.

"I'm going to take the time that Strife is unconscious to be completely honest with you, Miss Lockheart," Sephiroth said. He glanced over his shoulder at everyone else in the group. "If I'm wrong, anyone here must correct me. Jenova plans a reunion inside of Cloud Strife. She'll take the cells out of the clones that make their way here, and she'll take the cells out of Vincent Valentine; she'll take them into Cloud's body. She won't use her real form, because the transformation will leave her vulnerable and she knows you won't hesitate to kill her in that moment of vulnerability. She will use this body," Sephiroth said, indicating Cloud with another tilt of his sword, "because then you _will_ hesitate. You will hesitate, and Jenova will use Cloud Strife's hands to kill you, Miss Lockheart, and everyone here. Cloud will go insane, if he isn't already, as he watches it helplessly from his mind. Then Jenova will mutate his body, which will not be pleasant for him, and believe me when I tell you that she will make certain that he feels everything she does. Then she will move on, killing as she goes along.

"She may or may not kill Cloud, at least not right away. She may decide to keep him around as her plaything. This I can discuss with you in detail - great personal detail, if you understand me - if you really would like to know what it's like, but I don't think we have the time right now."

Tifa was crying, and she lowered her arms, but didn't stand down. She looked over Sephiroth's shoulder to Vincent.

Vincent stepped between them, put his hand on Tifa's shoulder. "Jenova is going to use Cloud's body no matter what," he said. "I'm...privy to this knowledge. What Sephiroth is saying, Tifa, is that you can spare Cloud going through this."

"And save time, you bunch of dicks," Cid spoke up in a broken voice. "Spare Cloud the horror and save loads of precious time into the deal." Reeve saw that Cid was crying, too.

Sephiroth sighed once more, and drew his hand down over his face tiredly, a gesture so remarkably like one Reeve had seen Cloud make countless times that it seemed to cut his heart. And it scared him. If _Sephiroth_ was weary, things looked bad for the Planet as well as for Cloud and everyone else.

"You're trying to trick me," Tifa said through her tears, though by then it was obvious that even she didn't believe that.

"Miss Lockheart, I'm trying to give you options." Sephiroth's voice was impatient, but reasonable. "It's the only thing I can give you."

At this phrase, all of the fight finally went out of Tifa Lockheart. She was, for the first time in her life, defeated. Weeping, she went to her knees beside Cloud. "If you could tell me what you want," she said to him. "If you could tell me, I would do it."

Cloud never answered her.

Finally, she looked up at Sephiroth again. "Not with that thing," she said, pointing at the Masamune.

Sephiroth nodded. Then, in a strange moment of what looked like compassion, he knelt down with Tifa. "Miss Lockheart," he said, with such unaccustomed kindness that Reeve almost choked.

"Don't you dare tell me some shit like 'You're doing the right thing,' like I'm having a favorite pet put down or..."

"I wasn't going to," Sephiroth said. "I don't know what the right thing is, I only know what Jenova plans. What I do want to say, though..." He stopped, looked around at everyone else, deciding to address them as well. "Reisei had figured on this," he said. "I don't think I'm too far off when I say that there is some of the Ancient in her. I think it's possible that she could somehow...could somehow..."

Strange as it seemed, Sephiroth was at a loss for words.

"Christ, goddamnit, let's do this if we're going to!" Cid roared. "Do it quick, bastard!"

It was Vincent who stepped up. He held his hand out, offering a materia orb to Tifa. It was Death. Tifa took it, as Vincent kneeled down and removed the ribbon from Cloud's armor. He did this respectfully enough, but quickly; with Jenova's urging, Cloud could, and likely would, wake up any second. Then Sephiroth stood up, and he and Vincent stepped away.

Reeve, and everyone else, looked away.


	20. chapter twenty

_

* * *

_

_She would have known it was him even if he hadn't come to her with his residual self image. She would have sensed him out - his confusion, his loss, and the feeling that he wasn't where he was supposed to be._

_He _wasn't _supposed to be there, hovering in the small border between the Planet and the Lifestream, but that didn't mean anything. The Lifestream wouldn't turn him away. It wasn't a sentient thing that would benevolently tell Cloud Strife to go back._

_He approached quickly, and she sensed his weariness. Just a spirit, just his energy, no body to wash up in Mideel this time. If he entered, he wouldn't come back. How tempting the Lifestream must have been to him, the easeful, cool colors, the lulling voices. They called in their soft murmurs. They called to her, too, but she knew this realm of old. She frequented this border. She knew how to come back._

_She caught him up in his wandering, caught him up as he drifted towards he Lifestream. Then he stopped, recognizing her._

I asked you if you wanted to live or if you wanted to die,_ she said, thinking in the voice she knew he would recognize. _You told me you wanted to live. You promised me.

_He lingered, pulled once more toward the Lifestream._

You're not done fighting. Are you going to live, or die?

_His eyes - such as he remembered having - found her. _

Are you going to live, or die?

Live, but...

_His spirit voice was loud, as if he were trying to make certain he was heard._

Then, that's all I need to know. Follow.

_He did._

_

* * *

_

**Jenova**

_Hold me up baby for I may fall_

_Hold my dish-rag body tall_

_Our bodies melt together _

_We are one_

_Post crucifixion baby, _

_Post crucifixion and all undone._

_Nick Cave; "Wild World"_

_

* * *

_

Tifa clung to Barret, because Barret had known Cloud longer than anyone there apart from herself.

"This Planet is a bitch," Barret murmured into her hair.

Cid wanted to ask, "Now what?" but he didn't, for two reasons. The first reason was because he couldn't bring himself to speak. The second, because he knew it would be the wrong thing to say. And after all, he wouldn't have had time to ask the question anyway.

Cloud Strife was on his feet. "Tiresome wretch!" he shouted. "I was going to kill it anyway, but you've deprived me of my fun."

Cid felt lightheaded as he stared at Cloud, or, at the body that used to belong to Cloud. The blood streaks were gone from his face. His hair gleamed in the unnatural Mako glow from the sky. Cid had never before noticed how perfectly symmetrical he was. He could have been carved out of marble and brought to life. He looked like an angel. He looked like Sephiroth. It could have had to do with the fact that he was hovering above the ground instead of walking on it. Even Sephiroth looked at him in awe.

The air was quiet and dead as Cloud's eyes raked over all of them, settling finally on Vincent.

"It's her," Vincent said, his low voice falling flat in the still air.

"It's _me_," Jenova said in Cloud's voice. Then she held up Cloud's hand, palm out, in front of Vincent.

What looked like a mist of blood seemed to come from Vincent's chest, and Jenova swept it from the air into Cloud's hand. Vincent screamed once, and then fell to the ground, writhing. Cid, Reeve and Nanaki all ran to him. They all put themselves in Jenova's path to do this, but that scream had been rending, and there was nothing else to do. Now Vincent lay on the ground, blood coming from his mouth, blood staining his clothes, while Reeve made quick work of ripping the front of Vincent's shirt open. He meant to see the damage, to staunch a wound or help in any way. There was blood, but to everyone's surprise, there was no wound.

And Vincent was smiling.

Cid gave voice to the only thing that was in his head: "What the fuck?"

"She's gone," Vincent said. Then, with a laugh, he fell unconscious.

"He's alive," Reeve said, stern and practical. "We have to get him to safety..."

Before he could say another word, Cid had put his arms under Vincent and lifted him easily. He was surprised at how light he was, aside from the metal of his arm. That part of him was heavy.

Cid fled with Vincent, unwilling to admit that he was afraid to look over his shoulder, afraid to see Jenova giving chase with Cloud's body. He didn't hear Jenova behind him. More than likely, the arrogant spacebitch thought she had all the time in the world to kill them all, or maybe she wanted to start with someone else, or maybe she liked to watch the pathetic humans flee from her.

Jenova held Cloud's hands up in the direction of the black-cloaked clones and retrieved the cells from them in the same way she had done with Vincent. The clones fell, raving and moaning, to the street.

"Let's do this," Tifa said. There was no anger in her voice, no pain, and no tears. She sounded calm and resolute.

"Jesus, Tifa..." Cid began, as he hastily put Vincent on the ground, trying to shelter him behind a pile of rubble. He came back into the street, meaning to stop Tifa from confronting Jenova, but he found himself staring at Cloud - No, no, at _Jenova_ - instead, and unable to look away.

"Yes, let's," Jenova answered in Cloud's voice, looking, through his eyes, at Tifa. "I'd love for you to try to punch me to death with your small, human hands." The hand stroked the side of Cloud's face, smooth as polished rock. "See if you can mar this perfect jaw," Jenova said. "Humans are ugly by my standard, but I've grown used to your standards. This is a good face, isn't it?" She leaned Cloud's body towards Tifa, intimately close. Tifa didn't back away.

Three more clones had shown up, and, without looking away from Tifa, Jenova retrieved her cells from them as well. She was completing herself a little at a time.

"It's a good body by your standards, too, isn't it, Tifa Lockheart?" Jenova went on as if nothing had happened. "How long I've watched you look at it, with your base, human desire. And how his eyes have looked at you." A seductive smile curved Cloud's lips, showed his white teeth. "I meant for him to mate with you, really I did, but only when I was ready to pass my cells onto another host: you, Tifa Lockheart. Insurance, you might call it. You might even have enjoyed the transfer; it would have given you Cloud in the way you wanted him.

"But I have had him all these years Tifa Lockheart. I know every scar, every muscle, every cell. I've had Cloud Strife in ways you can never imagine, but you never were able to have your moments with him, were you, Tifa Lockheart? Those fleeting, wasted moments of joining that you humans make so much of. As meaningless as any other touch, like you kicking and slapping out your frustration with sparring partners. Meaningless, like when I would allow him a moment to touch your hair as you walked by him."

Cloud's hand reached out and took a lock of Tifa's hair. Tifa stared bitterly at Jenova, refusing to dignify anything she had said with a response. Cid watched Cloud's hand as it touched Tifa, and he was repulsed. Everything in him wanted to get the creature away from her, and he found himself running to pull Tifa away.

He needn't have. Reeve was closer.

"Get off her," Reeve said through clenched teeth, as he slapped Cloud's hand away from Tifa.

Barely looking at the insignificant human who had touched Cloud's body, Jenova used the same hand to swat Reeve down to the ground. Reeve fell face down onto an already bloody patch of pavement. Without looking, Jenova swept Cloud's hand down, picked up a piece of debris from the ground - a piece of metal, Cid saw - and impaled Reeve with it, pinioning him to the ground.

Everyone seemed to scream "NO!" at once, but Cid and Elena were the first ones at his side.

"Oh, was he important?" Jenova said in a lilting voice, a voice that was still Cloud Strife's. "I should perhaps finish him off for you, then."

Cid looked up, ready to fend her off as Elena tried to assess the damage - pretty goddamned bad, it looked like - to see Cloud's body stop advancing suddenly. The blade of the Masamune jutted out from Cloud's ribs.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," Sephiroth said. Behind Jenova, he pulled the sword free. No blood came from the wound in Cloud's chest.

Jenova turned around to face Sephiroth. "Did you think that was where my heart was?" she asked. "Human, I no longer need Cloud Strife's heart, or his blood, or even his body. My heart is wherever I want it to be in my body. You can take all the time you like trying to guess, but I'll be bored if we do that." Cloud's body leaned forward again. He suddenly seemed taller, for Sephiroth now had to look up to see into the eyes Jenova had inhabited. Jenova looked at him curiously. "I used you, too," she said to Sephiroth, as if it had just dawned on her. "And you were fairly strong back then. But now, you're without me. Now you're only you. Pathetic human. Clone."

"Words, Jenova? These are your weapons?" Sephiroth shrugged fluidly, flexed his hand casually on the hilt of his sword. "Long ago, you were a force. Now your only recourse is schoolyard sniping?"

Cid took the moment that Jenova seemed to be focused on Sephiroth to try to tend to Reeve. Elena was still kneeling beside him, and her grim, determined face was streaked with tears. As she looked down at Reeve, she murmured what sounded like, "I'm so sorry."

Reeve had turned his face to the side; blood ran from his mouth. Cid moved the dark hair away from Reeve's face and saw that he seemed to be smiling; an ironic, bitter smile. He also saw that Reeve was fading fast. If he could pull the metal spike free, then find a way to staunch the flow of blood while someone cast their strongest Cure, there was a chance of keeping him alive. Cid just wasn't certain if it would be enough, but it was a start, and the only thing he could think of.

"Damnit, Reeve, I guess you're a good guy," Cid whispered to him. "Weird as hell - I never got you - but you kinda helped us here and there."

Reeve laughed weakly, and it brought more blood from his mouth. "Cid," he began, but didn't have the strength to finish.

"So, okay, what I'm gonna do is pull this thing outta you..."

"Cid, wait," Elena whispered.

Cid looked up, and Elena signaled slyly with her eyes toward Sephiroth. Over Cloud Strife's shoulder, Cid saw Sephiroth shake his head the smallest fraction, while still keeping eye contact with Jenova. _Wait for my signal,_ Sephiroth was trying to tell them. He kept talking to Jenova, but Cid wasn't interested in what he was saying just then. It was buying them a few moments. Cid looked back at Elena, and realized something very startling: she was trusting Sephiroth.

"Damn," Cid muttered. He looked all around him, and saw Nanaki standing by the rubble where Vincent lay; Tifa and Barret stood together with Yuffie behind them; Reno, Rude and Tseng were in a small group, with Reno crouching on the ground as if ready to spring into action. Cid wasn't surprised to see that Reno was once again holding that nightstick of his. The thing that struck him most about what he saw was how perfectly motionless everyone was. No one wanted to distract Jenova from Sephiroth.

Sephiroth was, Cid realized, using himself as bait, at least for the moment.

"...then you have miscalculated your chances, human," Jenova was saying to Sephiroth.

Without warning, she struck. At first, Cid couldn't see exactly what had happened, but it looked as if Cloud's hand had just taken a swing at Sephiroth, and that seemed odd to him. But when Sephiroth deflected the strike with the blade of his sword, it rang out like metal against stone.

"Don't you remember the things I allowed you to do with your body?" Jenova asked Sephiroth.

"Yes, I remember the mutations now that I've seen you," Sephiroth answered conversationally.

She struck again, and Sephiroth parried again. Cid had forgotten how damned fast Sephiroth was.

"They weren't mutations to you back then, clone. They were _privileges_."

Without answering in words, Sephiroth struck, his sword once again glancing off the arm that Jenova had apparently turned into some sort of armor.

Jenova was laughing, but the sound was cut off by a gunshot. It was followed by a squealing, whirring sound like grating feedback. Rude and Reno had stepped up behind Sephiroth, and Reno had turned the EMr on.

Jenova laughed as Rude's bullet went through Cloud's body.

Tifa and Barret stepped up to join, but Rude waved them back: "Wait till we're dead and then take over," was what the gesture said, and Tifa and Barret understood it.

All of Avalanche had understood it, ten years ago when facing down Sephiroth.

By that reasoning, Cid thought, it might have been better to wait until everyone else was dead or unable to fight, and Jenova was tired out, and then use Sephiroth to fight her. Yet, any way he looked at it, it seemed pointless. Jenova wouldn't get tired. Not this time. She'd had a long, refreshing sleep, and she was nearly complete again. It was useless to try to kill her before she retrieved all of her cells - this, Cid now understood, had been their mistake the first time they'd battled her - but once she had retrieved them all, he didn't think they _could_ kill her.

In despair, Cid watched as Jenova struck at Sephiroth, and this time, she didn't miss. She raked him right down the front and halfway down his sword arm, and Cid felt a moment of hateful, vengeful joy at seeing Sephiroth caught unaware like that. He couldn't help it, he guessed. Old feelings died hard. Though it did seem unlike Sephiroth to be caught off guard.

"Get ready," Elena whispered, and at first Cid thought she was talking to him. Looking at her, he saw that she was talking to Reeve as she gently smoothed his hair. Reeve didn't respond.

Sephiroth nodded to Cid, confusing him beyond all belief for a moment. Then Sephiroth took a step back, as Rude and Reno moved together to stand in front of him, and raised his arms to the sky. Cid felt the pull of warm air all around him, felt it all moving towards Sephiroth as if he were gathering it into himself. All at once, Cid understood.

He looked up at Elena. She nodded, and placed her hand gently on the back of Reeve's head. "Go," she said to Cid.

Cid wrapped his hands around the end of the metal spike, placed his knee none too gently on Reeve's back, and pulled swift and hard. He hoped, fleetingly, that his decision to trust Vincent's judgment of Sephiroth had been the right one.

It began to rain.

* * *

**Scarlet**

Scarlet stumbled, fell, and decided to stay on the ground for a few quiet moments. It certainly beat this running frantically shit she had been doing for the last few hours. Or maybe it was minutes. She couldn't quite tell. There were so many things of which she was no longer certain. One thing had eclipsed all: She had seen Jenova. Of that, she was sure.

Jenova had _looked_ like Cloud Strife, and Scarlet had no coherent idea why that was. But Cloud Strife was dead. Tifa Lockheart, of all people, had killed him, and Jenova had taken his place.

Scarlet had watched until the moment when the body had risen from the dead. She had watched the body stand, watched it turn, and for a moment she had seen its eyes. They were flat and ageless.

Cloud Strife had spent an hour of his life terrorizing her and threatening her life, and she _had_ been terrorized. She had feared for her life, she had feared pain, she had even feared the unrelenting sick feeling she'd had as she shared space with the raving, bleeding thing he had become. But all that while, she'd still had her wits, her guts, her will.

At the glance of Jenova's eyes, all of that had melted away, and Scarlet had found herself rigid with horror, unable to move from the spot behind a pile of rubble where she'd been crouching to see what came next. For the first time since she'd laid eyes on him, Scarlet felt pity for Cloud Strife. And pity was exactly what it was: she wasn't necessarily sorry for his bad fortune and she certainly didn't feel guilty for it, but she did pity, for a moment, this sad, dead creature.

And then she had broken the spell of her terror and run. And she had kept on running until her feet didn't feel the ground anymore and her legs tangled with each other.

Her breaths came ragged and loud for a few moments. She hugged the ground and willed herself to calm down, to catch her breath. There was a cramp in her side that prevented her from filling her lungs the way she needed to, but she knew that would pass. After another few minutes, she rolled over and looked at the sky. It was glowing faintly, Mako green. Scarlet understood that she was responsible for the release of the toxin from the cloning lab, but again, she felt no guilt. The cloning lab shouldn't have been operating in the first place. More importantly, its destruction was worth this sacrifice of this pathetic town and its low-minded occupants.

Painfully, Scarlet sat up. She looked around, trying to discern where she was. Before she even recognized the street or any of the buildings, she smelled fuel. It was the fuel of an airship. Then she saw where she was, and she remembered it.

_The Tempest._ She could remember walking through the adjacent alley to get away from Reeve and his silly heroics. The Tempest was on the field on the other side of these buildings, and it was empty. Jenova and the others were far behind her. Scarlet made her way towards the airship.

She couldn't fly the Tempest, and she would have to wait for Heidegger, if he was still alive, to get her out of Midgar, but she could have a look around. Reeve was bound to have left something of importance there, something she could use against him.

He made it so easy for her sometimes.

* * *

**Cid Highwind**

Bodies of Jenova injected clones lay scattered around the pavement, most of them in tattered, black cloaks. These were the ones leftover from the Jenova project more than twenty years ago, babbling, half-sentient beings that couldn't even be called human anymore, if they ever had been.

Cid wondered if some of them had, in fact, been human before Hojo injected them with Jenova. If some of them had been like Cloud.

It wasn't difficult to realize that Cloud Strife was gone, even though his body was fighting an easily-won battle against Sephiroth. (Cid berated himself for ever thinking that Jenova could be beaten. That sort of hope had been useless.) Any satisfaction Cid had once had at seeing Sephiroth lose to anyone had long since passed. Now it was just sickening to watch someone of such grace and power, no matter who he was, be tossed aside like a rag doll.

Jenova, still using the body of Cloud Strife, hovered over to where Sephiroth lay on the pavement. The Masamune had clattered to the ground a few feet away from him. She grabbed a handful of blood-matted, silver hair and jerked him to his knees. Sephiroth opened his expressionless eyes and met her gaze easily, calmly.

"Are you through?" she asked.

Moving with astonishing dexterity and speed, Sephiroth hooked the hilt of his sword with his foot and dragged it to where he could reach it. In reply to Jenova's question, he thrust the sword backwards under his arm, impaling the creature once more.

Laughing, Jenova grabbed the blade coming out of her back and pulled it all the way through. The skin, muscle and bones of what used to be Cloud's body simply melted back into place as if nothing had ever pierced it.

Sephiroth took that moment to get up. He and Jenova stared at each other levelly for a moment.

Jenova was unharmed, and, Cid guessed, almost complete. There didn't seem to be anymore clones showing up. She must have only been missing a few of her own distributed cells, and soon she would have all of them back. By then, Cid figured, she would be completely unstoppable. Sephiroth hadn't struck any vital blows yet and his time was running out.

And yet he still stood facing her, looking confident and impassive, like any soldier on any mission. Blood ran from both corners of his mouth, and freely from an open wound in his shoulder. He would probably cast the Great Gospel again soon, and then once again everyone in the group would have a try at cornering Jenova and possibly striking her. Each time they tried to do such a thing after the effects of the last limit break had worn off, Sephiroth had waved them all back with his sword. He, too, knew how useless it was to fight her without the effects of the Great Gospel. If she struck again, he might hit his limit. Or, more likely, she might take him out.

Cid glanced around at the group to see if anyone else saw what he saw. Elena was still frantically healing Reeve whenever she could, but her energy was waning. The Great Gospel had saved Reeve's life, and she was trying to hold onto it for him. Tseng, Rude and Reno had to support her. They watched the battle carefully and stayed quiet, knowing that Jenova was more concerned with the annoying human clone than she was with them at the moment. Vincent was still unconscious, with both Nanaki and Yuffie standing close to him, waiting for signs that he was with them again. Cid could only wonder what he would feel when he woke. _If_ he woke.

But it was in the faces of Tifa and Barret that Cid saw the recognition of futility that he felt. He could see by Tifa's flexing hands that she wanted to fight. Barret had his arm firmly around her shoulder. Cid didn't doubt that Barret would knock her out before he let her go up against this monster alone, without the protection of Sephiroth's limit break on her.

_Sephiroth's_ limit break. The idea appalled him, and yet there was the man, fighting their battle. Why? Contrition? Cid doubted it. Duty? It was possible. Because he had nothing better to do? No other reason on the Planet? That was the option that Cid chose to believe.

"Take your sword, human clone," Jenova said, as she held the Masamune out to Sephiroth, hilt first. When she saw that Sephiroth wasn't inclined to move, she said, "I'm offering you your fallen weapon. It's the honorable thing to do, isn't it? I'm only guessing. I don't know much about honor. But then, do you?"

Sephiroth didn't move. Cid wished like hell he would just take the damned stupid sword (a wish he would have never in all the ages of the Planet thought he'd make,) but then he had to wonder if he would take the sword if he were in Sephiroth's place. And rely on the mercy of this..._thing_? No, never. He had to admit that Sephiroth was doing exactly what he himself would have done.

Jenova grew impatient with his silence, and she finally cracked him across the jaw with the hilt of the sword. As Cid had guessed, Sephiroth was too stunned to cast anything at all, let alone his limit break. He fell like a broken toy and was still. It looked completely wrong.

"Goddamn you, stop!" Reeve yelled, struggling sit up. The Turks tried to hold him back, to shush him, anything to keep him from calling attention to himself. They knew, as well as he did, that another attack would end Reeve's life for good. But Reeve wouldn't be shushed.

"I can't watch this anymore!" Reeve went on. "I can't watch you torture...anyone like this!"

Jenova twisted Cloud's features into a cruel smirk as she looked at Reeve, who looked so small compared to this being that now seemed so much larger than Cloud had ever been. "I thought I finished you," she said. "But then, you all look alike to me." The hand extended again, in the same claw-like gesture she had made before her first strike on Sephiroth. Reeve saw it, but he didn't stop or try to move away.

"Hey, Spacebitch!" Cid called. He whistled obnoxiously and waved the Venus Gospel in the air. "Hey, virus, over here! Lemme ask you something." He saw he had Jenova's attention, so he asked the one thing he actually did want to know. "You almost done transforming yet? I mean, you've got all these dead clones here, I'd'a thought by now you'd have all your cells. How many more before you're done baking? I wanna go have a cigarette and you're holding me up."

The truth was, Cid knew she was close, he only wondered where the last few stragglers were, the handful of poor bastards who had her cells somewhere in their bodies, sleeping or reproducing like a cancer.

Jenova took a step towards him.

"You're right, Cid Highwind," she said. "There are actually two more poor bastards, or maybe even three, but I wanted to wait until this human clone with the longsword was out of the way before I did it. He's such a pest, sticking that sword of his here and there."

"Yeah, well then where..."

Quick as a striking snake, before Cid could finish his thought, she thrust out one hand again, this time in the direction of the Turks. Cid didn't have time to wonder what in the hell she was doing. Reno opened his mouth, perhaps to scream, Cid would never know. No sound came out. Reno's hand went to his chest and he looked down, open-mouthed and ghost-white, at the blood what was suddenly running down his shirt. Jenova made a grabbing gesture, and Reno's back arched as if his spine would snap. Rude caught him before he fell.

"What the fuck!" Rude shouted. "Reno! Christ! You never told anyone..."

_...two more poor bastards..._

Cid choked on his next breath. She had answered as if she'd read his thoughts.

"Reno didn't tell anyone 'cause he didn't know," Cid said, mostly to himself.

"Of course," Jenova answered, as she turned to face him.

In his blurred vision, he saw everyone's confused, terrified faces as they watched what was happening to Reno. Everyone looked surprised, but not as surprised as Cid was.

"Fucking ShinRa," he muttered, and then Jenova held her hand out to him. He closed his eyes because he didn't want to know when she was going to do it.

The next moment, he did know, and he wasn't quietly shocked about it like Reno had been. He screamed like she had ripped his heart out, and indeed, that's what it felt like, or as close as Cid could imagine. He screamed and he felt himself falling, clutching at his chest the way the others had done, cursing ShinRa, sneaky bastard ShinRa, the entire corporation. He heard Tifa call his name, and then he hit the ground.

He was able to open his eyes a crack, and was surprised that Tifa wasn't hovering over him, concerned. Goddamnit, he was _dying_ here, he was writhing on the frigging ground; everyone had gone running to Vincent and Reno when they had done the same thing!

But everyone was strangely quiet. _Too_ quiet all of a sudden, considering what had just happened. _She must be transforming into something else,_ Cid thought. It was the only thing he could think of that would take the attention away from him.

He was dying, probably, but he had to see what happened in his last few moments. He was helpless with his eyes closed. Well, he was helpless anyway, but he _felt_ more helpless with his eyes closed, and he still didn't want to miss anything. He didn't want to go out closing his eyes against the horror, like a little kid.

He saw Tifa first. Her face was set in a kind of hysterical grimace, and she was biting on the knuckles of her right hand. She wasn't looking at Jenova, as Cid had thought she would be.

Cid was so tired, his eyes wanted to close, but he forced them open and he followed Tifa's line of vision. Had he been standing, he might have fallen back down just then.

_Shit,_ Cid thought, finally unable to resist the pull of unconsciousness. _I guess I'm already dead._

Because there was no other reason for him to have seen Cloud Strife standing on the sidewalk, wearing Sephiroth's coat and staring blankly into the eyes of the creature who had taken over his body.


	21. chapter twenty one

**Cloud Strife**

Cloud opened his eyes, gagging on the filthy air. It filled his lungs, and he rolled onto his side and retched. Nothing came up.

He lay there for a moment, shivering both with cold and with the dread that always came with not remembering where the hell he was or how the hell he had gotten there. At least, though, he knew _who_ he was.

"Cloud Strife," he whispered into the pavement, and his voice was a cracked whisper. It burned his throat to speak. His voice didn't sound like his own.

He took a moment to catch his breath as he stared at the pools of light that his eyes cast on the pavement. During this time, he listened for any sounds that might clue him in to where he was or who was with him. The world was mostly silence. There was a steady dripping sound, as of water from a gutter or a broken pipe, but that was about it. Deciding that he had to find out what was going on, and preparing himself for seeing someone he hadn't known was there (friend or enemy? He couldn't begin to guess,) he braced his hands against the ground and tried to push himself up.

His arms couldn't support him, and he fell immediately back down. He tried once more, only to fall again.

Now came the first moment of panic. He rolled into his back and held up his hands in front of his face. The first thing that struck him was how smooth they looked. They were like the hands of a stranger...a stranger who had never held a sword.

He looked at his arms. They were the slender arms of a youth who had never fought, who had never swam in the ocean or done pushups or...

Cloud sat up and tried to scramble backwards, as if he were trying to get away from this strange body. He noticed then that he had not a thread of clothing on. The rest of him was thin and weak, too. This was a body that had never been jogging or snowboarding or, god help him, through SOLDIER training. This body felt strange and ill-fitting, as if it were too small for him.

There were wounds, though. One on each arm, and one in the center of his chest. They were in the healing process, but the one on his right arm was still bleeding out a little.

Cloud wrapped his thin, useless arms around his chest and sat for a moment, trying calm his thoughts, trying to be rational, and trying to think of the last thing he remembered.

He felt some heavy material fall over his shoulders, and it startled him into action. He tried to say something, anything at all, but his voice seemed to be as useless as the rest of him. He also tried to lunge forward, but only succeeded in throwing himself to the ground again.

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you," a soft voice said behind him. "This old body doesn't move very fast."

Cloud listened for a moment, as he managed to sit up. The voice was familiar, unthreatening. The owner of the voice had draped some sort of clothing over him, and Cloud pulled it around his shoulders. He saw that it was a black coat.

_Sephiroth's_, he remembered. He turned his head to see who had given it to him.

"Reisei," he tried to say, but only managed a dry, broken rasp.

She was sitting down on the pavement, twirling her white hair around her finger. A bundle of some sort of material lay across her lap. "You're free," she said.

"I - I don't..."

"Be still. Close your eyes, turn them inward. Where is she?"

"She...?"

"Look for her. Listen for her. She's gone."

Cloud blinked. He knew Reisei, knew her from Cosmo Canyon, knew her from the past, knew her from

(_The Lifestream..._)

(_Are you going to live, or die?_)

life, but the sight of her wasn't bringing back any important information. She had told him to follow her. That was all he could remember.

"You made your choice to come back, to live," Reisei said. "But she had used up your body; you could no longer come back to it. You're Cloud Strife just as you always were. As you were meant to be."

It was too much to try to understand, but Cloud focussed on what he remembered, which was Reisei telling him to follow her. He had. He had followed her from the Lifestream. And if he had been in the Lifestream, he must have been separated from his body.

_That's called being dead,_ he reminded himself.

And yet, here he was in...well, it didn't seem like _his_ body, but...

(_But it's not Jenova's, either._)

The last thougth startled him so much that at first he wasn't certain it had come from him. Cloud was so used to random thoughts and feelings that had come from the alien virus inside of him that he was never quite sure which were his and which were hers.

(_Just as you always were. As you were meant to be._)

"Jenova?" Cloud whispered to Reisei.

Reisei pointed, as if indicating something far away, something neither of them could see. "Out there," she said. Then she pointed to Cloud. "But not in there."

Cloud stared at her, open-mouthed. "Am I a clone?" he asked.

"The body you're in was cloned from your DNA, uninhabited, wandering around Midgar." Reisei offered him a sweet, somewhat triumphant smile. "I counted on it, Cloud. I knew there would be one. That's why we had to come to Midgar."

"But I'm...I'm..."

"You're still you." Reisei stood up slowly, painfully. "And you still have work to do. Jenova's gone from you. She's not gone from the Planet."

Cloud stared up at her, processing this, or trying to. In the end, he didn't have much to think about after all. What he did have, however, was a purpose.

The body was frail and, even worse, untrained. The person inside of it, though, accessed the well of will and strength he had always drawn from. His _mind_ remembered training. Cloud stood up and began to walk away from Reisei.

"I'll find her," he said. "I can probably still sense her out. You should stay where it's safe."

"Uhh, Cloud!" Reisei called after him.

He turned back, impatient, ready to find and fight Jenova. Just then, he wasn't allowing himself to feel anything. Whether this was out of habit or to keep himself from completely freaking out, he didn't know.

Reisei was holding a pair of pants and a shirt. "You can't go...like _that._ You look like a flasher."

Flustered, Cloud pulled the coat closed. Reisei handed him the clothes and then primly turned her back.

"Thank you," he said.

"I took them from the Tempest. There's a man there. Fletcher. I left him there."

"Okay," Cloud said, as he tried hurriedly to pull the pants on. It took much of his strength to stand on one leg, and he almost toppled over. His arms were already shaking by the time he was pulling the shirt over his head, and he understood that this was because he had never used his muscles before for anything as simple as this. He, or at least this body, had spent all its life strapped to a table. He had no idea how he was supposed to fight Jenova.

"But I will," he muttered under his breath as he finished dressing.

"You will," Reisei said. "And you don't have to sense her out or listen for her. I can bring you there. Follow me."

"The last time you said that to me, I was dead."

Reisei smiled again. "And now you're not."

Speechless, Cloud nodded. Reisei began walking. Still not allowing himself to feel anything or think about anything other than what was necessary, Cloud followed her once more.

* * *

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

The first thing he saw was not Tifa's strained, confused face, or Cid's disbelieving eyes, or the man he had once idolized and later feared and hated lying motionless on the pavement.

The first thing he saw was a pulsing mass of white, firm and smooth as marble, but flexible. It gelled and massed, glided along on rolling legs. It was a large thing, bigger than he was.

_Jenova._

He had thought the word, and waited tensely for her reaction in his body and in his mind. It didn't come. The creature kept moving away from him, the bottom of it never leaving the pavement, though he could sense a human gait about it.

Cloud narrowed his eyes, though it did nothing to enhance his already perfect vision. At least that hadn't changed. He saw everything crisply, knew depth and lines just as he always had. Jenova fascinated him for a moment. There was no skin on her, but he could sense, more than see, the smallest of cells. Billions of them, it must have been. Billions on the surface, and billions more beneath.

And in the midst of the writhing, pulsing cells, gliding along inside of her and never in one place for long, was a slightly darker, oblong mass.

_Her battery. Her _heart. _By Shiva, her heart._

Perhaps even her brain, because he could see it clearly, could even see the radiant beams it sent out in tendrils like lightning to every other part of her form. Like a net of nerves, lightning beams to every cell in her body. He could see her perfectly.

And it seemed that she hadn't seen him, because she was moving away from him, towards something that, at first, he didn't think he had time to observe. Then the thing she was moving towards stirred, and Cloud decided to see what Jenova was threatening. It was hard to tear his eyes away from Jenova's secrets - the gods knew that she had watched his for long and long - but he did look away.

Sephiroth was gaining his feet, but slowly, gratingly, in a way that Cloud could never have imagined him moving. Even after their last battle, in which Cloud had triumphed over him, Sephiroth had somehow managed to hold onto his majesty, and Cloud had to admit, hateful as it had been at the time, that it somehow seemed right.

Sephiroth stood up and shook his head, like a fighter shaking off the effects of a sucker punch to the jaw. He turned away and impassively spat a bloody tooth onto the street, then turned to face Jenova again. He was looking at Jenova, but at the same time, he...

_I see you..._

Cloud started at the faint intuition he had felt, because it couldn't have been called a voice. Still, he recognized it as communication. He had been trained by the man who stood on the other side of the creature, the man who, before he had gone mad, had been the subtlest, slyest person he had ever known. Sephiroth hadn't even glanced at him, quite possibly hadn't looked away from Jenova, but Cloud had recognized the shift in the soldier's focus. Sephiroth was aware of him. Sephiroth hadn't given away his position.

Cloud glanced around frantically, suddenly aware that Sephiroth wasn't the only person in this situation. In quick succession, he saw Tifa, hitching in a breath. Cid, on the ground, staring wildly at him. Barret, about to point him out. An entire group of people, from friends and allies to former enemies, seeing him, watching him, about to acknowledge him.

Cloud held both hands out and shook his head quickly. _Please, all of you, not a sound. I'm not here,_ he thought, and he hoped that it would show on his face. It must have, because no one made a sound. He nooded curtly back to the creature, indicating that they should all look there, instead. Don't call her attention on him.

Tifa - gods love this woman, he thought - looked away first, and Cloud knew that it must have killed her to do so.

"Human clone, your pathetic longsword," Jenova said to Sephiroth, and the sound of her voice hurt Cloud's ears, split his head, for it was the sound of all voices at once. No one else seemed to react to it the same way he had.

Amazingly, Jenova seemed to be offering the Masamune to Sephiroth. It rose in the air as Jenova's white arm seemed to twine around it.

"Does it shame you to accept your sword from your enemy?" Jenova asked.

Cloud gritted his teeth against the sound of her voice, and against her words, as well, because he knew that she was right. In ordinary circumstances, someone like Sephiroth would never cry mercy by accepting the weapon he had lost.

But both soldiers knew that circumstances were not ordinary. Sephiroth held out his hand, palm up. He still looked at the creature impassively.

Cloud didn't have to wonder if Jenova would decide to spear him with it instead. Jenova wouldn't kill Sephiroth quickly, just as she hadn't killed Cloud quickly. She killed by inches, with shame and isolation. She didn't see Sephiroth as a threat. How gratifying it must have been to her, using the one who had once called her "Mother" for her own games. Sephiroth took the blade in his hand and Jenova laughed, a bright, splintered sound that had the potential to drive Cloud to distraction.

But Cloud wasn't entirely distracted, and when Sephiroth lifted the Masamune by the blade and then threw it it, sending it flying in Cloud's direction with no prior warning that he would do so, Cloud was mentally ready.

Physically, he was not.

Later on, he would thank every Fate for the fact that he had been too weak to catch the sword in his hand. Had he caught it, Jenova wouldn't have heard it land. She would have known that it was in the hands of someone else and she would have been alerted, and Cloud might have lost the precious few seconds he had gained on her.

As it happened, Cloud did drop the sword, and it clattered to the ground. To Jenova, it looked like Sephiroth had joined in her game, and rejected his weapon instead.

"Your stupid, unfounded pride!" she cried joyously. "What would you fight with, your wit?"

She kept babbling, buzzing, the sound becoming a strident string of nonsense to Cloud as he retrieved the sword as quietly as he could. It was heavy in his hand, so damned heavy, and already both of his arms were shaking under the weight of it. His thin, useless, untrained arms! He hated them, hated the fact that this body had spent its entire life strapped to a table...

(_"and it doesn't matter if you've spent weeks in a hospital bed, the power to manifest physical strength has little to do with it..."_)

Sephiroth's voice, but not in the present. From the past. Sephiroth's _training._

It was Yuffie who finally gasped when she saw Cloud begin to run toward Jenova, Masamune in both hands. She gasped, and Jenova caught the glitch in attention, and perhaps she might have turned and seen him.

She might have, but it didn't matter, because Cloud's world became two points: the pulsing, oblong center of energy that he could see so clearly inside of Jenova, and the tip of the Masamune. The only thing that mattered was bringing those two points together.

Sliding the Masamune into her was like sheathing the blade into a cleft rock. It scraped and squealed like metal on stone, but there was no resistance.

Her voice soon overrode any other sounds. Threads of black shot out from every tendril on her nerve-net, and then those threads flared white, like electricity. It was blinding, and her scream was deafening, and Cloud thought his head would split with it, or fly into as many screaming cells as she had in her own body, but he held onto the hilt. He held on until it felt like the weapon had fused to both of his hands.

The Masamune jerked a few times in his grip, and then a great weight pulled it down, and pulled him down with it.

Jenova had stopped screaming. The screams that followed - Tifa's, perhaps a few others - seemed quiet in comparison. Cloud sensed that everyone was running towards him. The world tilted, and when he opened his eyes, he saw the pavement coming up fast. He had a moment to envision the mess it would make of his face, and then there were hands on him, hundreds of hands, it seemed like. Hands and hoarse cries, so many people calling his name, so many people touching him! Then a flash of green, a swirl of silver, and somewhere in the din, very low:

_"Well done, Soldier."_

But that was receding and the voices were receding, and the hands were mostly gone, save for a few. And then two. And right before complete darkness, a vague scent of rosemary.

* * *

**Sephiroth**

It was a blessing that Reeve was unconscious, Sephiroth thought. He didn't have to watch Elena and Rude scrape Fletcher's brains off the wall of the Tempest.

"Scarlet," Rude had muttered when he had first seen it.

"Can we prove that?" Elena had asked.

Rude had shrugged.

And now Elena was sitting next to Reeve, who was regaining consciousness. He, like the others in their party who were injured, was on the floor of the airship. There was no other place for them. When she saw that Rude hadn't disposed of Fletcher yet, she cast Sleep on Reeve before he had a chance to open his eyes. Then she sat with her back against the wall and sighed.

"...done well..." a voice croaked from a different corner of the Tempest. Tseng was leaning on his elbows and watching Elena with a look of calm appraisal.

Elena looked at him, surprised. "Sir?"

Tseng cleared his throat. "I said that you've done well, Elena."

She answered him with an unashamedly proud smile. "Thank you, sir. It's good to have you back."

"If you intend to come back," Rude said. He had covered Fletcher's body and was now kneeling next to Reno, checking to make sure he was all right. He didn't look all right, but whatever Rude saw must have satisfied him, because he didn't seem too worried just then. "Now that we're functioning as a group again..."

"The position you left behind is still yours," Elena said. Her smile faltered. "Although, I don't know what we'll be doing. We have to answer for Midgar."

"Scarlet," Reeve muttered.

Elena's focus shifted back to him immediately. "I know she was responsible for setting it up," she said in a soft voice. She slyly stroked his hair under the pretense of checking if he had a fever.

Reeve opened his eyes, though the simple act seemed difficult, and looked steadily at Elena. "I can help you," he said.

"You can, I'm sure. But I think we still have to answer for it."

Reeve closed his eyes and put his hand over hers. Then, suddenly, he was struggling to sit up. "Reno," he said. "And Vincent and Cid. Are they...?"

Elena gently pushed him back down. "I'm pretty sure they're going to be okay," she said. She stood up and walked over to where Reno lay beside Tseng, and looked them both over. "Only a full physical will tell for sure. But as far as we know, it seems like clones and people in SOLDIER weren't the only ones Hojo saw fit to inject with Jenova cells. I know Reno was in the ShinRa sick bay hospital for a while, and I guess that Cid was, too. They lived all those years with her inside them and they never knew. It was like she was keeping quiet about it so she would always have some of herself hidden away until she was ready to completely reunite her cells. It must be the end. I think the only one who could say for certain is Cloud, but I feel safe in saying that I think she's gone."

"I can't tell," said a soft voice from the other end of the airship. Sephiroth turned to see Tifa Lockheart gaining her feet next to Strife, who lay like a broken doll on the floor. Beside Cloud, Vincent and Cid lay bleeding but alive. Lockheart stood among them. "You're right, Cloud would know, and..." Tifa glanced at him, her lips pressed together. She was shocky and pale, but resolute.

For the first time in his life, (or in any of them,) Sephiroth found himself acknowledging beauty and strength in someone else. It pleased him. He looked again at Elena, and saw that she and Tifa were similar, even if they didn't like to admit it - both of them standing among their injured comrades, both of them having faced Jenova even if they hadn't been the ones to finally kill her.

"Here we all are," Reisei said from the hatch. "Alive."

* * *

_Two more chapters after this, both very short. I could combine them into one, maybe. If not, though, I might post them both on the same day. :) _


	22. chapter twenty two

**The Turks**

The visuals were as sharp as any digital recording Elena had seen. There was no question that it was Fletcher's bloody profile that had passed by first. The camera showed him sitting down on the floor of the Tempest, just barely out of sight so that only his hand was visible in the field of vision. Occasionally his hand would move or he would cough, but other than that it seemed that he had fallen asleep. Then the crooked figure of Reisei had passed quickly. It was eerie to see her pass, knowing that she was heading out into the ruins to find the clone of Cloud Strife.

It was hard to believe that this had happened weeks ago.

A considerable amount of time passed before Scarlet's distinctive profile passed the camera.

The sound was a little muddy, but she could still make out the words and could identify Scarlet's voice: "God, he makes it so easy for me sometimes. Naive Reeve! I knew I'd find something of use here."

And then Fletcher's tired voice asking, "What could I possibly do for you, you traitorous bitch?"

"You know what I want, Fletcher, and it's not too late. If Reeve lives - doubtful, from the way it looks - I'll still need his resignation, for him to hand over control to me, as well as immunity. After his resignation, well, then he can die. Has to, in fact. He knows who Bradburn is, and he knows I set up Midgar. He'll have figured it out by now."

"_You're_ responsible for doing this to Midgar!"

Silence on the tape for a moment. A quick intake of breath from Fletcher, the words, "Oh, shit," and a scuffling sound. Then a flash, and the report of a pistol.

A few moments later, Scarlet's profile again as she walked away, this time looking frazzled, and with flecks of blood on her face.

Reeve clicked the television off, sat back in his chair, and tiredly rubbed his eyes. "I think that's all we need," he murmured.

Elena put her hand over Reeve's. "I'm sorry," she said. It was hard to go on, but she did. "Reeve, I'm sorry this happened. All of it. We all are." She looked towards Rude, Reno and Tseng, and they acknowledged her with a slight nod. "And I know that this proves her responsibility. But I don't think it absolves us from ours."

"They've got nothing but Bradburn to tie you to it," Reeve said, "And Bradburn will probably..."

"Bradburn," Tseng cut in quietly from the dimmest corner of the room. His eyes, still glowing fiercely, were sensitive to light from having been in Scarlet's dimly lit rooms for so long. "You won't hear from Bradburn anymore."

"What do you mean?" Reeve asked, with obvious trepidation.

"I mean that I hadn't forgotten my way around Scarlet's HQ, Reeve. Bradburn was a risk. I removed the risk. Heidegger's still out there, of course, but he won't say a thing; he's too happy to have Scarlet out of the way."

"You...you..." Reeve stumbled over the words as he tried to put it together. "You removed - "

"Yes, Reeve, I removed the risk, just as Scarlet tried to do. I'm a Turk. I only forgot that I was for a while."

"Right," Reno said. "I personally have no problem with the little shit's demise, but I agree with Elena. We're responsible. We're accountable. And that's why we're here."

Reeve looked them all over, and Elena saw his frustration and confusion. "What do you want me to do?" he asked. "Put you all in jail?"

Rude chuckled quietly. "A jail would never hold us, even if we wanted it to," he said. "There's no jail that could, no jailer we couldn't get around, and the temptation to escape would be too great. And besides, honestly, no one wants to go to jail if they don't have to."

"We can't make up for it," Reno said. "Sure as shit there's no way I can, anyway. But we're here to do what we can."

"Meaning?" Reeve said.

"We'll work," Elena said. "When you were halfway awake after the battle, you mentioned rebuilding. That's not going to be an easy or rewarding job, Reeve. The place is uninhabitable the way it is now. Mako everywhere, the Mako that makes up Confusion status materia. The entire city is poison."

"That's why I was frying myself, Commander Planet," Reno said. "It wasn't because I'm a perv who was getting off on it. Contrary to popular belief."

Reeve pressed his hands together and leaned his chin on them. He seemed to think it over, then he shook his head. It wasn't so much a gesture of denial as it was helpless indecision. He gazed out the window of his Junon office over the harbor, lost in thought. "It's dangerous, even if you're equipped for it," he finally said. "The best rescue teams are coming out sick, injured, completely unable to carry on."

"And we're better than the best," Rude said.

"While your rescue teams are being poisoned in there because they don't have status guards or equipment, civilians are dying," Elena said. "That's because of us."

Reeve seemed inclined to sit at the table and stare out the window. He looked weary, and Elena had just decided to take the decision out of his hands when Tseng stood up. He walked over to where Reeve was sitting, put his palms flat on the table and leaned over.

"The Turks want this mission, Reeve," he said quietly. "If you want to stop us, you will have to lock us up."

Reeve looked up at Tseng, whose expression was unreadable. "You're not giving me a choice," Reeve said.

Tseng shook his head, and finally gave Reeve a chilly smile.

"Thank you," Reeve said.

"Thank you for saving my life at the Temple," Tseng returned. Seeing Reeve's surprised expression, he added, "Yes, I remember now. As if it were last month."

"That settles it, then," Reno said. "Let's go, uhh, plan. Or whatever it is Turks do."

Tseng rolled his eyes in exasperation. "God, he was so hard to train," he muttered. Then he straightened up and looked over his Turks. "Is anyone unfit for this mission?"

"No, sir," the answered in unison.

"Does anyone see any reason not to proceed?"

"No, sir."

"Will the field commander step forward?"

Without hesitation, Elena stepped up. If Tseng was surprised, he didn't show it. She was pleased to notice that she met his eyes easily, with none of her former shy awkwardness. She wondered for a moment why that was, and then realized that it was because she wasn't in love with him. She found it odd that it was still a revelation to her, since she hadn't thought she was in love with him since ten years ago.

"Are you able to give orders to your fellow Turks on the unpredictable field even if it means putting yourself in danger? Even if it means putting them in danger?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good," Tseng said. "Meet me in our office in ten minutes, Commander."

"Our office?" Elena said.

"Ah, Reeve," Tseng said, glancing over his shoulder, "we need an office. This will, of course, be our only request of you."

"Of - of course. You can use the one below mine. There are some boxes in there, in storage, but I can get rid of those."

Tseng nodded politely, and then left the room. The three remaining Turks relaxed noticeably, Elena included.

Rude was the first to step up to Reeve. He held out his hand. "Thank you, man," he said.

Reeve took Rude's hand and shook it earnestly. "For what? For letting you guys put yourself in mortal danger for Midgar?"

"Yes," Rude answered. He released Reeve's hand and turned away. "See you guys at the meeting," he said. He clapped Reno on the shoulder on his way out.

"The meeting," Reno repeated, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Hey, we have a meeting in a few minutes. Better get ready. Hey, the Turks are having a meeting. Imagine that. Haha!" He laughed loud and with true pleasure. Then he went to shake Reeve's hand. "Hey, Reeve, we'll get the job done. I had a cat in NeoMidgar, you know? It's probably dead. But maybe not."

"I, uhh, hope you find...well, whatever it is you're looking for," Reeve said, sounding mystified, but quietly pleased.

"Hey, Elena, make it quick," Reno said. "We have a meeting in a few minutes, you know?"

"Yes, Reno, I know," Elena said with a small laugh.

Reno jumped up and hit the ceiling with his hand on his way out the door. Elena hadn't seen him looking so healthy in...well, ever, now that she thought of it. She hoped that he would stay that way.

"Elena, I want you to be careful," Reeve said as he came around from behind his desk.

She turned around to face him. "I will be."

"And don't get hurt."

"I'll try not to."

"Because I'm taking you to dinner after this is all over."

"All right," she answered automatically. Then his words sank in, and she felt a jolt of nerves in her stomach. Reeve, it seemed, meant to take her to dinner. Not all of the Turks, but just her. That complicated matters, but she found that she didn't mind it. She looked him over, as she had occasionally in the past, and realized that she honestly did like his dark eyes and graying hair.

But a dinner date after a dangerous mission? No, that hit too close to home, though Reeve would never have known that.

"Not dinner," she said. "A movie. A stroll. A day at the beach. Lunch. A trip on the Tempest. Whatever bizarre thing you can think up within reason. But not dinner."

Reeve was mystified by this, but seemed to know better than to ask why. "That works," he said. "That works. Whatever you want."

"Good," she said with a laugh. And, like the rest of the Turks, she shook his hand, grateful for the mission, for the opportunity to work and to try to make amends, if they could ever be made. The opportunity was enough for now.

Anything else could come later.

* * *

**Avalanche**

If Vincent had any euphoric or peaceful feelings about being free of Jenova, he didn't show it. He didn't show any emotion at all, in fact, and to a point, Tifa could understand this. Emotion could be overwhelming; it had the potential to be destructive. She had run herself mad around the Shildra, trying to occupy her mind until Cloud returned, trying not to think of the implications. The implications were too cruel. She wasn't sure if she should even be giving them any thought, because they might prove to be false, and what good did worrying do in the meantime?

So instead of worrying, she worked. If anyone noticed her distraction, they didn't mention it. If anyone wondered the same thing she was wondering, they didn't bring it up, either. Barret was with Marlene; Cid was preparing the Highwind for departure (he had been doing this for about a week - Tifa got the idea he simply wasn't ready to leave yet); Yuffie had reclaimed her materia; Nanaki had gone quietly back to teaching the children of Cosmo Canyon; life and business went on.

Vincent had stayed on for a while, too, waiting for something. Not for Cloud's return, Tifa suspected. (She wondered if Vincent thought that he now had all the time in the world to be Cloud's friend and comrade, as they should have been these many years. She wondered if he was wrong.) Rather, she felt that he was waiting for either Reisei or Sephiroth, or perhaps both. Tifa hadn't seen Sephiroth, and had seen Reisei infrequently.

Sephiroth had to be somewhere, she reckoned. It wasn't like him to just go away and die.

Her most important question was answered one evening a week and a half after Jenova's defeat as she sat in the graveyard, where Cloud's mock tombstone had once stood. (She and Cloud had made taking that thing down their first order of business upon returning to Cosmo Canyon.) She had done everything there was to do that day: her office was in order, her housework was done, her business day was over, and she had trained for two hours and had no further excuses to keep going. So she sat alone and tried to clear her mind. She refused to see the image she had helplessly dreamed every night since Cloud's

(_death clone resurrection_)

return. She aggressively blocked out the picture of Cloud, thin, young and frail, his hair changing from blond to white in a matter of seconds as she watched helplessly. And then she saw herself visiting the grave, standing as it had once stood, only this time with Cloud really beneath it.

Enough; it was time to go. She wondered why she'd thought that coming here would help her. There were no answers here, and especially not to her most important question.

Reisei might know the answer. Sephiroth might. Cloud almost certainly did, but he was away, and she was alone.

Tifa got up and turned to leave, then fell back with a small, breathless shriek to find her way blocked. Her nerves still jumping, she lowered her fists and relaxed her stance when she saw that it was Vincent standing in front of her.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," he said.

"No, it's all right. I should have heard you coming." Which wasn't exactly true, she thought. Oddly enough, even with all the metal on him, Vincent was quiet as a cat.

He offered her his arm, the one that was still whole and human, and she linked her arm through his. They walked in silence for a moment.

"You're brave," he finally said.

Tifa shrugged. She didn't feel brave.

"But you are," he answered her unspoken denial. "You face things. It's who you are."

"I guess that's just because I don't have a choice sometimes."

"You're wrong. There's always a choice. And years ago, I made the choice to sleep instead of doing what I should have been doing. A coward will always find a way to run away."

"Vincent, I'd hardly call you a coward. Come on, give yourself some credit for once."

He favored her with a small, ironic smirk. "This conversation is about you, not me."

Tifa smiled back, although she knew that she wasn't going to get out of this one. Vincent wouldn't let her; he would keep steering it back. It frustrated her. She wanted to finally ask him her question. Not that there was much of a chance of him knowing the answer, but he might.

"But there's a subtle difference between bravery and obstinance," he said.

"Oh, do you think I cross the line?" she teased.

"I think you straddle the line once in a while."

She could hear gentle mocking in his tone, and she didn't mind it. "So what am I being obstinate about?"

"There's something on your mind, and you won't talk to anyone. Tifa, don't make the mistake I've made all my life and not ask someone for something."

Her stomach seemed to turn to ice. She had wanted to talk to someone, but at the same time, had been terrified of the answer. Vincent, her most persistent friend, would make her face it.

"I wouldn't presume to force you to speak to me, and maybe I'm not the one you want to be speaking to. But you should talk to someone at least, and..."

"I do want to ask you," she said. "I'm just afraid of the answer. And maybe you don't even have the answer."

"Maybe I don't," he said. "But someone might."

"I - "

"And if you're afraid that Cloud won't come back - forgive me for presuming so much - then I don't think you need to worry. He will be back. Soon, I guess." He said these things hurriedly, as if he felt it wasn't his business but he had to say it anyway.

"No..." Tifa said. She took a breath before going on, and when she spoke, it was on a shivering exhale. "It's just that I'm afraid that when he does...when he does..."

Before he let himself see her cry, Vincent put his good arm around her and pulled her to him. It was probably easier than looking at her, and he seemed to not want to invade her privacy. She knew that Vincent was uncomfortable with scenes like this, but damnit, she couldn't help it. This was another reason why she hadn't wanted to ask anyone. It was almost easier to let her fear eat her like acid from the inside.

But she wanted to hurry on and say it, so he didn't get the idea that she was going to say some silly, petty, vain thing like "I don't think Cloud loves me!" Cloud's feelings towards her were the least of her worries.

"Sephiroth and Reisei were both dead for a while, and when they came back, they both came back as clones, and..." She swallowed hard, found that she was clutching Vincent's cape in her hands, and didn't care. This was the hardest thing in the world to say. "Now they're both aging fast... Dying."

"Oh," Vincent said. "I see. Yes, I thought about that on the way home. To here, I mean."

"You did?" Tifa said. She hitched in her breath, trying to quit crying. Crying wouldn't do her or Cloud any good.

"Yes, I brought this up to...to..." He was afraid to admit to her that he had spoken like a friend to Sephiroth, and she knew it. "To both of them. I asked both of them. God, Tifa, if I'd only known this was on your mind, I would have told you. But I supposed that you had already asked Reisei and so had your answer."

So Vincent had an answer, or at least something close to one. She held onto him tighter, afraid to let go, because when he told her that Cloud was going to age and die within a few years, she would fall. "Tell me," she whispered. "Tell me what Reisei said. Tell me even what Sephiroth said. He must know something."

"They did, or at least it seems to make sense." Vincent thought it over for a few agonizing moments. Finally he seemed to find a way to put it together coherently. "Reisei said that Cloud never entered the Lifestream the way she and Sephiroth had done. She said that they were aging to catch up with themselves. Since he hadn't entered the Lifestream, his...his consciousness, or his soul, or... He doesn't remember being dead. It was more like he was dreaming outside of his body. Your body, they say, believes everything you tell it."

Tifa felt weak with relief. For a moment it looked, to her dismay, as if she would fall down anyway. But she held herself up, gathered her strength, and was able to pull away from Vincent. Vincent, who seemed to be telling her that Cloud would live.

She wanted more than anything to believe him.

Vincent gave her a small, wistful smile. There was sadness behind all of his smiles, and Tifa knew that, and she certainly couldn't miss it this time.

"If that's true about your body believing everything you tell it," she mused, "then why doesn't Reisei stop herself from aging? Why don't people cure themselves of cancer? Why don't people live forever?"

"Tifa, if I could answer those questions..."

She found that she didn't need him to. He was telling her that Cloud knew he was alive on a soul level, basically that the cells of his body, regardless of where it had come from, knew themselves to be thirty two years old and would act accordingly. She found that she didn't only _want_ to believe it; she actually, truly did. It made sense to her.

"Then it's over," she said, and wrapped her arms around Vincent again. "Cloud's all right, Jenova is gone, and it's over."

He shifted his weight uncomfortably, and gently pulled her arms from around his neck. "Almost," he murmured, turning away from her. "There was one person who didn't make it to the reunion."

Tifa rested her hand on his arm as she tried to understand what he was telling her. Jenova was gone, she had been sure of it. But Vincent...

"Oh..." Tifa said in a small voice. Inside, she screamed at herself for being so blind to other people's pain, for being so selfish that she couldn't see what was right before her eyes.

Vincent's eyes were always sad. There was one reason for that. And that one reason meant that Jenova, even the smallest amount of her, existed somewhere, in someone.

"Vincent, I'm so... What are you going to do?"

He turned back to her. His eyes were tired, but dry. "What I have to do," he said. "What's right."

"Can you?"

He favored her with one of his sad, distant smiles. "There's no one else on the Planet who can, or who should."

Tifa felt herself flooded with guilt. Cloud would live, and Cloud would come back to Cosmo Canyon. Vincent had no such joy, and never would. Tifa deeply, viscerally regretted having exuberantly and triumphantly thrown her arms around him and pronounced everything all right in the world. Now she put her hands on his face and drew him down to her. "I'm so sorry," she said, and then kissed him chastely.

Vincent leaned his forehead against hers for a moment and nodded. "It's all right. She'll know it's all right, too. There is one thing I can do to make up for it, one favor, and the only one worthy of her." He pulled away from Tifa, took her arm in his, and began walking with her again. "I can give her the one thing she's always wanted. She told me that she never got to hold him, even once. Now she will."

In stunned silence, Tifa walked back to the Canyon with Vincent.

* * *

**Sephiroth**

The General looked over his shoulder to see the old woman (or the young Ancient, perhaps,) in the glade. There was a green, flickering flame in her palm, and her eyes looked tired. It wouldn't be long now.

Next to her, Vincent Valentine sat with his head resting against his arms, which were wrapped around his knees. His eyes were closed, and he looked almost peaceful.

But there was still work to do, one last mission before he could rest. Vincent had to finish this part of it, but it was Sephiroth who would begin it. He would find his past, confront it, and then lose it just as quickly.

Just as well, he thought. He glanced down at his hands, and saw the beginnings of tiny lines on them. Just as well. He could have years left in him, and the world had never quite been for him. The world was a place for the Turks and Avalanche, Tifa Lockheart and even, to an extent, Vincent Valentine. The world was a place for Cloud Strife, who fought in its name against anything circumstance threw at him. But it had never been for him.

Nor he for it, he supposed. It might do him some good to take her place here. He had always wanted, more than anything, to be left alone.

But first, to see her, speak with her, and touch her. Then she would have peace, too.

Resolutely, Sephiroth turned away from Vincent and the Ancient. Without fear, he faced the waterfall. With his back straight, he walked through it. It washed away daylight and the world behind him, and Sephiroth stepped into the dark, warm cavern, where his mother waited for him.


	23. The final chapter

**Cloud Strife, alone**

_Even the lung-burning cold feels good, because it's _his_ cold, and his alone. He doesn't have to share it. True that there are other people on the mountain, feeling it along with him, but the dry air that is freezing his throat, the crunch of packed powder snow under his boots, the tickle of the wool hat on his head, these things belong to him. There is no judgment of those feelings, and even if there is the lingering fear that it would all be turned to pain - or worse, swept away to unnatural numbness - that fear he knows to be unfounded._

_He is free of his end of the rope._

_Cloud trudges painfully back to the starting point. Walking through the snow uses up so much of his energy that there's hardly any leftover for the actual ride down the mountain on the snowboard. The thin legs, underdeveloped muscles, and worse, the heart and lungs, are all so unused to this activity that he can only do it for a few minutes at a time. He can remember a time, not more than a month ago, when he would do this from dawn till dark._

_That was, of course, if she (not "She" anymore but "she"; she no longer warrants capitalization in his mind,) was quiet, of course. If she wasn't, why then he could still do it all he wanted, but occasionally without one or more of his senses. Sometimes she would black him out halfway down, which, if he remembered correctly, (and that was never a guarantee,) was how he had broken his arm._

_Cloud reaches the summit, where other snowboarders are getting ready to push off, and has to lean down with his hands on his knees to try to regain his breath._

Your body believes everything you tell it.

The power to manifest physical strength...

_Sephiroth's words. And if he believes Sephiroth, then it ought not to take him too long to regain his former abilities. But as he gasps for breath and tries to slow his pounding heart, he wonders if it will come soon enough. This will have to be his last ride down the mountain for today. After this, he'll go back to the lodge, have dinner, and spend the rest of the night in his hotel room. Maybe there would be something to watch on TV. And then, the next day, he'll go home to Cosmo Canyon and actually put his arms around Tifa, and tell her what a wonderful time he'd had. This time he wouldn't have to lie to her, either. And that was almost worth the shuddering muscles, aching bones and painfully heaving lungs._

_Almost._

_Jenova had made him strong beyond human strength, and damned if he didn't miss that, just a bit._

(Stop it. That's not true.)

_But it is true, at least partly, and there is some guilt in that, and some shame. He knows fully what he was capable of doing with Jenova inside of him, and he knows what it nearly drove him to. To think, even for a moment, that it would be worth it to have some of her power back is an abomination. She's gone, and Cloud is glad, and there's nothing more to it. And if the physical strength and stamina of the old, poisoned body are the sacrifice, then it's a worthy one and he's glad to give it._

_"Hey, Spike, you okay?"_

_A fellow snowboarder hovers about him, seems about to put his hand on Cloud's shoulder, then decides not to. Those who have seen him around know that he doesn't like to be touched. He's too unpredictable._

Didn't like to be touchedwastoo unpredictable_, he amends. _

_"Yeah," Cloud says on a harsh exhale. He straightens up and looks at the guy next to him, a hearty, strong fellow with wind-chapped cheeks and a weathered face. Cloud's own skin is so sensitive now that he has to cover as much of his face as possible out in the cold air. These things, he realizes in moments and small revelations, are going to take a long time to get used to. And it will be long before his new body even resembles the old one, even if his features are exactly the same._

_"Hey, man, you look like you've been sick. You lost a lot of weight."_

_It's a personal observation that maybe this guy shouldn't have brought up socially, but Cloud supposes that he looks so different than he used to that people can't help mentioning it._

_"Yeah, I was laid up for a while, uhh, in the hospital, but I'm okay now." Cloud smiles, though he knows me must look disconcerting. "Just have to get my strength back."_

_"Damn, man, your eyes really glow."_

_"I had Mako poisoning," Cloud says, noting that it's not exactly a lie._

_"But weren't you in SOLDIER, like, years before Meteor?"_

_God, can this guy possibly want to get into this conversation right now? Sure and Cloud has all his excuses straightened out and ready to serve up, but he doesn't think he can lay them on one right after the other on the top of a mountain in the freezing weather to someone who barely knows him._

_"Yeah, I was, but I had bad reactions to the Mako, so, you know, once in a while it flares up really bad."_

_"Sucks, dude."_

_"You bet." Cloud has to smile again. That story wasn't so bad, wasn't exactly a lie, and had rolled right off his tongue easily. _

_"Right, well, take it easy, man."_

_"Yeah, I will. Going to go down one last time then call it a day."_

_"You do that. Good to see you back, dude."_

_"Thanks."_

_As the guy walks past him to gear up, he casually slaps Cloud on the shoulder. And then _doesn't_ cringe or apologize. In fact, probably hadn't even realized he'd done it. This also makes Cloud smile. _

I really must seem different_, he thinks, and he will be glad if people simply stop tiptoeing around him, if they can just forget that they ever had to._

_The guy in front of him takes off without ceremony, and then it's Cloud's turn to go._

_With a whoosh, he is lost in a world of white, powdery crystals, and to hell with it all, this is _fun_. This is _living

_Stinging cold rushes past him and into him and through him. Wind as sharp as ice itself rips through any opening in his old, battered coat and leggings, and the world is nothing more than the wind and the white of the snow and the slate of the sky. His thigh muscles are screaming at him to stop, because they've had enough, but now he's quite sure that he will go one more time, just one more time after this and then call it quits. What's the worst that can happen? His body might be stupid, but his brain remembers how to balance and shift, so he'll compensate._

_Coming up is the halfpipe, and Cloud knows he can't resist. He shifts his weight and rides toward it, and it's all happening so quickly that he's on it before he's convinced himself that he can do this. In a moment it doesn't matter, because he's catching air, and there it is: freedom in physics._

_This, too, is over in a matter of seconds (but so very, very much worth it,) and Cloud has under a second to realize that his legs aren't going to be ready for this kind of impact._

_And so when he lands, his legs go out from under him, and the board twists free and he is falling, he's not entirely surprised._

_There's a loud _SNAP_ that seems to have come from him, and he wonders if he's broken the snowboard, but before he can remember that the snowboard is probably back a few yards, there's a flare of cold in his arm that is bright and familiar. He knows it's not actually cold; it's his body's way of dealing with pain so fierce that it might put him in danger, and he's still got some problem solving to do._

_He throws his arm out - the one he can still use - and braces it against the hard snow, trying to stop himself from rolling onto any injured body parts and injuring them worse. He does stop, and then he's on his back, staring dazedly at the slate sky and the few snowflakes falling onto his goggles. _

_And then, with further danger unlikely, his body allows him to feel the actual pain, and it is _brilliant_, almost blinding._

_"Oh, shit," Cloud mutters, though just then he lacks the ambition or strength to get up and do something about it. Anyway, getting up would probably be a bad idea, since there's nothing he can do at the moment. _

_He knows his arm is broken. The bone has splintered awkwardly into two pieces, exactly along the old faultline that - _

_All of Cloud's thoughts stop then, and for a moment there's nothing in his head but silence. And then, a jumble of thoughts all tumble into his mind at once, like marbles out of a jar._

There was no old faultline...

...new body, no break in this bone...

this arm has never been broken...

...believes everything you tell it, Soldier...

...and it doesn't matter if you've spent weeks in a hospital bed, the power to manifest physical strength has little to do with it...

_Cloud knows that there can't possibly be an old breakline in this arm. But he can feel it, bones crunching and grinding against each other in the exact same place he had once broken them. He can't deny what he feels, and neither can any other entity._

_"Holy shit, Spike! You okay?" _

_The sky is eclipsed by someone's head, and Cloud sees the guy who had spoken to him at the top of the mountain peering down at him._

_"You break your arm again? Looks like you did! Damn, that must suck."_

_"Um," Cloud says, "yes. It sucks."_

_"Hang on, man, let me ditch my stuff and I'll help you back up. Wow, that sucks."_

_Then the face is gone, and Cloud hears boots crunching in the snow and scuffling and other voices._

_But it _doesn't_ suck. That's the hell of it. _

_Sephiroth had told him that the body believes everything you tell it. And the body may be new, but it belongs to Cloud Strife. It belongs to Cloud Strife so absolutely that he has put a faultline in his arm just by remembering it. His body has remembered to break where it was weak._

_And if that's the case, then soon it will remember to mend where it is strong._

_He can't wait to tell his friends. Tifa will just love this._

Imagine being happy to have broken your arm!

_By and by, Cloud realizes that he doesn't have to imagine being happy. Lying in a bank of snow with a compound fracture, looking up at the slate sky, Cloud is completely happy. _

_Before anyone can come back to help him and decide that he's _really_ crazy, Cloud laughs. He laughs loud and long, from a place in him that he hasn't known since he was a boy, before Soldier, before ShinRa, before Sephiroth, and well before Jenova. This place in him, he thinks, this feeling, _this_ is Cloud Strife from Nibelheim; this is who he is supposed to be._

_And for the first time, completely free._

_

* * *

_

_

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Self-indulgent author's notes: I can't write another line without thanking everyone who's read this story, even if you haven't commented. To those of you who did comment, I can't thank you enough; your feedback has been both lovely and extremely helpful.

I could never presume to do justice to Final Fantasy VII, but I hope I've at least honored it a bit, because I got months of enjoyment out of the story and the characters, and, while I've played tons of video games that I've enjoyed, FFVII is one of the few that stands out in the group. I'll probably be 99 years old in some senior community one day and still be able to recall how I enjoyed this game. (By then, there will have been thirty more sequels, a remake, a live action movie - god forbid! - an animated series, and a theme park.)

As I said in the beginning, I started Cities of Poison four or maybe five years ago. About halfway through, I put it down and forgot about it for a few years, only to pick it up again and complete it between last summer and fall. I'm a little freaked out that it's over, because it's been with me for so long. I hope that some people out there will possibly get something out of it, even if it's a few hours of enjoyment.

Originally, I toyed with the idea of having Cloud die, or not get better. In the end, obviously, I opted not to. I think that Cloud Strife is an incredibly constructed canon character (I hope that, while taking his characterization to its angsty limits, I've still remained faithful to the canon characterization,) and I've always had a soft spot for him. I wanted him to make it. I wanted Cloud to find strength and survive.

This story is dedicated to two boys who did not.


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